


Tin for the Firefly

by NoChaser



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: AU, Angst, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, only slightly mystical at times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:04:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4947760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoChaser/pseuds/NoChaser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin doesn't survive the prom. This is one version of what may have happened in the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PART 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and situations owned by Cowlip and Showtime. A bit of the premise was drawn from an abandoned WIP (info below). I own pretty much the rest of it.

He'd gotten a bit sentimental over time, and a little more easily moved to displays of emotion. He'd even openly wept a time or two over the past few years.

He now made sure he was home before 6:30 p.m., became increasingly resistant to out of town business trips, and only saw the inside of a bar a few times a month. He'd started to become what he'd always despised most, and found he only despised it a little.

He had a family now – had made one. His own. They made sure they were always together on those two days. Every year, without fail. January 4 because it was their birthday. May 6 because it was... well... because the meaning of that day was the polar opposite.

 

Brian squinted at the sun bouncing off the water as waves lapped at the beach. Back and forth, stealing away one grain at a time, introducing a new one in its place. A quiet breeze ruffled through dark saffron hair, brushed against sun mocha skin as Taylor scooped and crafted a structure near her mother's feet.

“What are you making?”

“A cassel,” she said.

“Ah, looks like we have an architect in the family.” At Taylor's quizzical look, she explained. “Someone who makes buildings.”

Taylor shook her curls. “No. I'm gonna be an ardist. Like my Tin.”

Brian kissed the top of her curly head and, with a giggle and a gleaming smile, the child went back to her endless task. He closed his eyes and bit down on his lips, raised his face to the sun and thought of Taylor's Tin. Arms slipped around his waist from behind and Daphne rested her head between his shoulders.

“He never really died, did he,” a soft voice questioned.

Brian tucked his fingers tightly between Daphne's and gave a squeeze. She might take that as confirmation of her words, but that was okay. He knew they were only symbolic anyway. Because he did die. _He die_ d. Whether they were vacationing on a Florida beach or shocked into numbness in a Pittsburgh hospital hallway, the truth was still the truth. He had _died_. Not even five years could change that fact.

 

The world had inconceivably shifted for Brian over a period of twenty-four hours.

As he'd shrugged on his suit jacket and draped that damned scarf around the collar, as he'd walked into a room filled with expectant faces lusting for life, he'd felt next to nothing for his own. Everything was simply a motion – meaningless and empty and rote.

He wasn't even sure why or how he'd ended up there. But as he touched him, swayed and danced with this beautiful young man whose smile seemed to hold some unearthly knowledge, he'd suddenly realized that his best chance at ever really knowing happiness was _here_... here in this connection, this bond he'd fought against with all his might. It made no sense – Justin was only a kid with a world of experiences yet to be discovered. He, himself, was a jaded, emotionally barren, aging club boy whose own experiences were best left buried. Brian knew that. Knew he should turn around and walk away – keep walking until there was no where left to go. But he felt the warmth of that smile, felt this young man offer himself up to be partner in more than this dance. And Brian knew he would stay, that here was happiness. That there would be no more running from this connection.

Within the span of a day Brian had gone from apathy about his own existence to holding the secret to happiness in the palm of his hand. And then to a depth of despair he'd never imagined existed.

Justin was dead.

The news reports and the gossips would say that it was a disturbed classmate with a baseball bat that killed him. Brian knew that was far from the whole truth. Anger and hatred and fear of a smile that rose from some powerful light inside killed Justin. Because that light shone on the truth and, god help the fucking world, they just couldn't have _that_ , now could they? Light uncovered sins and secrets hiding in shadows. Hadn't it uncovered his very own? Sent them screaming into a remoter shadow? Hadn't his own fear tried its fucking damnedest to douse that very same light? Anger and fear and hatred needed darkness.

So Justin Taylor died.

And the world became inexorably blacker.

 

It was a Monday evening when his world shifted once again.

He found her sitting on the stoop of his building as he returned from work, huddled into herself as if it was forty degrees instead of seventy-two. He almost turned around and walked away – would have if she hadn't seen him, hadn't called his name. It had been almost a month since they'd last seen each other, and he didn't think either one of them really wanted to remember why they'd gathered that day. So he stood straight and silent, his jaw working from side to side, trying to resist the impulse to scream at her to get the hell out of his way. To let him get inside. To let him keep on not remembering for just a little longer.

“I...,” she hesitated and Brian looked at her face for the first time. She looked tired. He was pretty sure he looked that way to her, too. But the emotions juggling themselves on her face – excitement and fear and indecision – made him remember another face that so guilelessly telegraphed emotion. A face he tried so hard not to remember these days. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of some way to just make her go away.

Then Daphne reached out and lightly touched his arm and said it.

“I'm ten weeks pregnant with Justin's baby.”

And, yeah, the whole world shifted again.

 

She'd come to Brian, she said, because she was scared, because she didn't know what else to do, because Justin loved him. Nobody else knew, but she wouldn't be able to hide it much longer. “My mom and dad... they won't understand,” she said quietly. “I graduate next week, and I'm supposed to start college in August.” She pulled her hair loose from it's colorful tie, then twisted it back again. It was something to do. “My mom and dad... god, Brian...”

Brian had yet to say a word. He'd simply led her to the loft and handed her a bottle of water. His heart was racing and he was pretty sure he was having a panic attack. It had hurt when she'd said his name – everyone avoided that around him – but it was as if a dam had broken inside him at the sound. Every goddamned thing he'd been trying not to feel for the past month rushed him. Confusing him. Flooding him with pain and sorrow and love and longing. The loss he'd tried to stave off feeling was overwhelming.

And now to know that there was a part of Justin _here_ , in his loft... Little more than a few cells containing his DNA splitting themselves, multiplying as they sat here. Growing...

He cleared his throat. “So, what...um... what are you planning to do?” Was Daphne here for money? For an abortion? Jesus, he hoped not. He couldn't do that, couldn't help her if that was what she wanted. It would always be her choice, yes, but he couldn't – fucking _wouldn't_ – pay to kill Justin yet again.

“I don't know.” She pulled herself back into that tight little ball he'd found on his stoop. “Everything is so fucked up! He died and I miss him so much it hurts and everything is so goddamned fucked up!”

Brian sat down beside her and pulled her into his lap and rocked her gently, like his grandmother used to do. He wondered how his heart could still break. Thought it had been destroyed on a Saturday in May. “Yeah,” he finally said. “It's fucked up.”

They talked for hours over Thai take out and soy milk Brian insisted Daphne drink. She'd wrinkled her nose at the combination but complied with a chuckle. It was the first bit of humor either of them could remember enjoying recently. Brian was inwardly thrilled and externally stoic when she said she wanted Justin's child. Couldn't even imagine otherwise, Daphne confessed, but she was terrified of her parents' reaction and the possibility of having to raise a child on her own. Of having to give up her scholarship and her future. And she felt an immense guilt having what she thought were such selfish dreams now.

“You get things deferred for a year. But you _still_ go after your dream. What kind of life do you think you could offer Justin's kid without an education?”

With that Brian had begun to put it into perspective for them both. For Justin's child, they'd have to work things out.

 

The pregnancy progressed with only a few problems, most of them having nothing to do with Daphne's health.

As she predicted, her parents were less than overjoyed with the prospect of their bright, talented daughter being a single parent at the age of eighteen; even a potential grandchild couldn't overcome the disappointment of watching the long-held dreams for their own child fade.

At about that same time Daphne and Brian were both summoned by the District Attorney to give depositions about the night of Justin's murder and the actions of Chris Hobbs. They'd both discovered early that this was not going to be one of those criminal cases shown on television, all wrapped up and tidily disposed of within the span of a season. The Hobbs' were pulling out all the stops and had hired one of the best criminal defense attorneys in the nation. It was going to be one delay after another and they both feared it wasn't going to end with an appropriate sentence.

Daphne's blood pressure spiked under the combined stress of legal maneuverings and parental disapproval, and she and her doctor knew something had to change. There wasn't really much she could do about entanglements within the legal system, but she could dismiss one stressor. She moved out of her parents' house.

With or without their support, her parents finally realized, she was having this baby.

Brian spent a lot of time at the apartment they'd found for Daphne. It was small, but cozy and in a safe neighborhood. He wasn't really surprised at how much he anticipated each stage of the baby's development, feeling that each day was another one closer to holding a piece of Justin close to him again. He didn't feel the need to go to Daphne's appointments, didn't attend birthing classes, but he made sure she was taking care of herself. That her pantry was stocked with healthy foods. That her gas tank was full and her car maintained. That those incidentals she couldn't afford on her receptionist's salary were paid for. Without it ever having really been discussed, he stepped into the role of father and best friend.

 

“How's the little lightening bug tonight?”

“The _firefly_ is just fine, Brian,” she snapped. “I hate when you call him lightening bug. Sounds... creepy.”

“Okay,” he said and rolled his eyes at this hormonal girl. “ _Firefly_.”

On a particularly difficult night, both of them, desperately missing Justin and feeling cheated on his behalf that he was missing this pregnancy, had decided that Justin would've chosen something unique to call the baby. “He told me once when we were little that he wished he could be a firefly... that he would shine and twinkle and live out his life making people wonder just how the hell he _did_ that.” They'd snorted because it was so very much a Justin thing to say, and with Daphne's words, they knew Justin's baby was now _Firefly_.

Jennifer Taylor was the only one other than the two of them who knew that Justin was the father. Brian wasn't sure about telling her at first. He certainly wasn't her favorite person – had never been. But they both eventually agreed she deserved to know. Jennifer was thrilled and cried for the joy of a grandchild and the heartbreak that her son would never know his child. She grudgingly accepted Brian's presence in the life of her grandchild's mother, since Daphne had made it clear that she wanted him there. “Your son loved him, Mrs. Taylor. Don't betray Justin by forgetting that.” But the tension, that undercurrent of mistrust and blame that Jennifer held toward Brian for her son's death, wasn't easily dismissed. A niggling fear began to creep into Brian's thoughts.

On a cool afternoon in mid September, Brian snuck Daphne away from work for lunch, proclaiming that the good councilwoman could certainly manage to do without her receptionist for an hour or so. She rolled her eyes, grabbed her coat and walked with Brian to a nearby cafe.

Over paninis and decaf lattes he blurted out, “I want to be the baby's father.”

Daphne sputtered around her latte, “What? Brian...”

“Presumptuous of me, I know. But are we really surprised at that?”

“Justin is the father, Brian.” She laid her hand over his. “I know you loved him...”

“What the fuck do I know about love?”

“You are so full of bullshit, it's a wonder it's not bleeding out of your eyes, you idiot. You _loved_ him... he _knew_ that. You don't have to take on his child to prove it.”

How could he explain all of his feelings to this woman? He was afraid. Terrified, actually, that he would lose this last piece of Justin Taylor. This genetic link – this heartbeat link – that he had to the one person who had ever made him feel _complete_.

Brian had spent the night of Gus' first birthday licking his wounds from Lindsay's refusal to allow Gus to spend time alone with him, Melanie's harsh reminder of exactly how few rights he had to his own son still ringing in his ears. For the first time in months Brian had curled up with his old friend, Jim Beam, his head shifting through remembered moments of ice cream kisses and Cheerio confessions, of eager hands and painful rebukes the weight of which nearly toppled his sanity. He'd allowed those forbidden images to comfort and chastise him until he'd broken down completely. He knew he'd eventually lose this child, too, this final tether to the boy who had once loved him that much. When he'd finally awakened the next afternoon, he knew he couldn't... wouldn't... let Justin go again. This was _his_ child growing inside her. He'd do whatever he had to do to make sure he couldn't lose that, no matter what happened in the future.

“Daphne... I couldn't tell him how much he... I wasn't man enough to say that to him... when he was alive. I'll not tarnish everything now by making some kind of proclamation that he can't hear. But that night... that night I realized he _was_ the most important person in my life, more so than even my own son, for fuck's sake. I can't take the chance that I'll lose the only part of him that's left in this world. That something happens to you and I have no right to know the last part of Justin there will ever be.”

There was nothing he could have said to her that would have proclaimed any louder how much he felt about Justin Taylor. Daphne already knew he loved this child, whether he would ever say those words or not, even now. She'd come to know the man Justin had fallen in love with, the one who was unguarded and funny, caring and a whole lot of crazy around the edges. The one who had offered to pay for her education if her scholarship fell through, who searched the internet for hours finding the right crib and safest car seat, who rubbed her swollen feet without a second thought. The one who drank less and less and rarely saw the inside of a bar or club anymore, regardless of his image, because he wanted to be there, steady and sober if she needed him.

“Okay,” she quietly agreed. “You'll have to adopt...”

“Not necessarily.”

“Then how?”

“Well, if we were married, it would be automatic.” He paused dramatically at the stricken look on Daphne's face. “But I'm not quite that much in love with you, dear.” Daphne snorted. “However, with the plethora of couples living together outside the bonds of holy matrimony these days, bringing all sorts of illegitimate children into the world, the courts have had to make some accommodation.”

“This is sounding so romantic, Brian. _Accommodation_?”

“You want romance? Find yourself a boyfriend. I just want to be the father of your child.” Brian tilted his head and smiled as Daphne laughed.

“Do tell, dear non-romantic father-to-be of my child-to-be, what are these accommodations?”

“We just have to each fill out a form voluntarily acknowledging my paternity before the baby comes, have them ready when the birth certificate is filled out. Shake, bake and – voila! – daddyhood.”

When Brian returned Daphne to work, they had the documents filled out and notarized. Brian didn't want to take any chances.

That night they decided on a name for their child. Stubborn little thing had kept his/her sex to him/herself during the sonograms, so they carefully chose a name that could work either way. One that signified all three of the parents.

Brian slept better that night than he had in months.

 

On January 4, 2002, at 11:58 p.m. Taylor Chanders Kinney drew her first breath. Exactly nineteen years earlier, to the day, her father had drawn his first breath. Brian looked down at his little firefly, all wrinkled and red and shivering, yet still loudly making her opinion known, and knew he didn't believe in coincidence.

“Welcome to the world, little firefly.”


	2. PART 2

It had been quite some time since she'd seen him here for more than a coffee to go.

Debbie had let Brian mourn in his own way, in his own time. She knew instinctively he wouldn't appreciate her brand of sympathy. Fact was, she'd been undergoing her own period of mourning and had a hard time consoling anyone else. They'd never had to deal with this, with something as devastating to their lives as _this_. They were all learning how to grieve more deeply than anyone of them thought possible for the loss of the brightest fucking light any of them had ever encountered.

She'd loved her Sunshine. So much. When she'd finally become aware again after his death, she'd gathered every sketch she could find that Justin had left in his old room and had them framed – placed them in ascendent order on the wall by the stairs. Every day she'd touch them carefully, caress them as she let her fingers remember the boy who'd slipped so easily into her household and her heart. And she always left that light on, the one that lit the stairs. Her sweet boy should never be in the goddamned dark.

Yes, she'd left Brian alone for the most part. Uncharacteristically. But she watched him – saw the trim figure become gaunt and the shadows descend over his face. She started to reach out to him over those weeks but drew back each time when she saw that brush of fear in Brian's eyes. Saw that slim thread he was being held together by fray a little with each attempt. So she left him alone. He needed time.

As the weeks passed, she saw the slow, quiet changes in the man – his lips began to turn up into a smile a little more often and that acerbic wit snuck back into his conversation, the fearful look in his eyes began to fade into one of longing for what she knew was remembered joy. He appeared, on the few occasions she saw him for more than a moment or two, to be dealing with his loss. And she knew, more than anyone else, that _his_ loss had been the most immense.

So when he turned up that morning in early January, casually dressed on what should have been a work day, his lips fighting the urge to break out in a grin, his eyes sparkling with happiness instead of longing or remembrance, and sat down at the counter, Debbie Novotny was only a little bit surprised.

“Missed seeing your ass actually sitting down on one of the seats, honey.” She had missed him. For a while she'd felt like she'd lost both boys. “What'll you have?”

“The usual... add a side of bacon,” he answered, then added, “Crisp.”

“You ordering _bacon_? Must be some special occasion.” She remembered he often stole a piece from Sunshine's plate, but never ordered it for himself. Her heart pulled a little at that memory.

“You have no idea, Deb,” he said enigmatically. “No fucking idea.” And the threatening smile couldn't resist. It broke out across his face.

Deb tilted her head, brows drawn down in a bit of worry. But she simply reached out and patted his cheek lightly before she went to place his order. When she returned he was scrolling through his cellphone, looking at pictures, the smile wider than she'd ever seen on Brian Kinney's face and she wondered if she'd ever seen anything more unusual, more beautiful.

“Jesus, ratchet that thing down a few kilowatts, will ya? You're blinding me here.”

“No can do, Deb. I just became a father,” he said and watched the slightly stunned look come over Debbie's face. “I heard the big grin sometimes comes with the job.”

She stood wondering just what the fuck this man was talking about. He'd been a father for nearly two years, now. Well, the girls kept a pretty tight rein on his actual participation in the role, but he _was_ involved with Gus' life. Saw him at least two or three times a month from what Lindsay said, not that that was all that much, mind you. Maybe they'd eased up a bit? Let Brian be the dad she knew he could actually be? Lord knows they should've done it a long time ago. Or maybe she'd been wrong all along; maybe he wasn't dealing with his pain so well. Maybe his mind had slipped into a less painful place.

“Wanna give me a clue, here, kiddo? You get more time with Gus or something?” Her voice was unusually subdued with her new worry.

Brian snorted. “Not likely with Mel in the equation.” He handed over his phone, pictures proudly displayed. “Name's Taylor Kinney.” His grin grew into a proud smirk. “Born last Thursday, all 7 pounds 2 ounces of her. Lungs a diva would fucking kill for.”

Deb stared, mesmerized, at the photos scrolling across the phone display. What the fuck? “What the fuck are you trying to pull, Kinney? You knock up somebody _else_?” Oh, no... he had to be pulling some kind of joke here. But Brian Kinney was never much of one for practical jokes. Oh, dear god, he _had_ completely cracked. What the fuck? “Brian Kinney, you tell me what the fuck is going on here.”

Brian took a deep breath. He and Daphne had discussed when and how to let everyone else know about Justin's child. They both knew the hurt would likely be great, that they would be seen as deliberately shutting people out. But it would be obvious soon enough that Brian had another child – he didn't intend to hide her away like some dirty secret – and questions were bound to be asked. Might as well head it off at the pass, they'd decided.

“Daphne came to me a month or so after Justin's... murder.” He couldn't categorize the death any other way. It _had_ been murder. “She was pregnant...” Brian shrugged and watched the penny drop. Recognized by the look of surprise in Debbie's eyes as she scrutinized the photos exactly when it hit bottom. Watched her cross herself and hug the phone to her chest as the inevitable tears formed.

“Oh, dear Jesus...” she sobbed. “Oh, fucking Jesus.”

Brian walked around and hugged this woman, this mother of lost boys, to him. “I'm her legal father, Deb,” he whispered. “But, yeah, she's all Sunshine.”

The first phone call he received that night was from Michael. The next from Lindsay. It wasn't a very pleasant couple of hours as he tried to lay out for them what happened and the reasons behind his actions. Brian had purposely not gone to Daphne's that night, not wanting to upset either her or Taylor with the volume of his conversations, knowing they wouldn't exactly be quiet ones.

“You fucking shit! You couldn't tell me? I'm your best friend, for fuck's sake.”

“Brian, how could you do this? How could you? We all loved Justin, but how could you do this?”

In the end, they weren't swayed by Brian's arguments, not that Brian was surprised by that. He wasn't upset about it. What had him pissed off was their seeming dismissal of Justin's child as something Brian Kinney shouldn't be concerned with. That he was doing this all out of some misplaced sense of guilt. That he wasn't cut out to be that kind of father. That he was going to ruin not only his life but Daphne's and Taylor's in the bargain. Fuck 'em.

Fuck. Them.

He slammed the phone down on the kitchen counter and grabbed his keys. He needed to see his daughter.

 

“They'll come around, Brian. They usually do, don't they?” Daphne handed him a beer and pulled out the breast pump.

“Christ, Daphne. Do you have to do that _now_?” He really didn't want an up close and personal image of Daphne's tits permanently seared into his psyche.

“If you ever want to feed your daughter, yeah, I need to do this now,” she said glibly. “You can stay or go. Your choice.”

He'd learned early on that Daphne wasn't quite as pliable as Justin had been, wasn't nearly as vulnerable to Brian's sometimes erratic moods. Where Justin had worked his magic quietly, Daphne was a ball buster.

“Fine,” he conceded. “Do what you have to do. Just... cover that thing up.”

She laughed and placed a spit towel over her exposed skin. “You know, if they say something to me, I'm gonna go off on them, don't you?”

“Wouldn't have it any other way.” Brian reached over and gently rocked the cradle that held their sleeping firefly.

 

Taylor Chanders Kinney made her grand public debut on the first Sunday in February at the home of Debbie Novotny and Vic Grassi. Both hosts were thrilled with the appearance and insisted they have first rights to holding their new granddaughter and great-niece. The entire family came, including Jennifer Taylor.

By now, word of Brian Kinney's fatherhood was common knowledge on Liberty Avenue. It had caused much less of a disturbance than most thought it would. Brian had pretty much been out of the scene for the better part of a year now and a fickle herd had moved on to other idols. There was a painful twinge of sadness somewhere in the middle of Brian's chest when he realized that his legend was no longer a driving force behind the desires of all those men, but the need to change a diaper and the contented look on his little girl's face when that was done put into perspective any lingering sadness at the loss. He'd just have to deal with that emotional shit later.

He was fucking growing up.

 

“If I were you, I'd shut up about ten words back.”

The room quieted eerily at the softly spoken words from the girl in the middle of the table, carefully spooning lasagna onto her plate. “This looks great, Debbie. Thanks again for inviting me.” Debbie just smiled and nodded at Daphne, whose own smile was obviously a bit of facial sarcasm. But the apparent non sequitur seemed to break the strained silence.

“Excuse me?” Lindsay remarked. “We know virtually nothing about you and you are telling me to shut up? Who, exactly, do you think you are?” Lindsay's dislike of this whole situation had been more than verbally apparent during the entire meal. They barely knew this girl Brian had, in her estimation at least, let manipulate his grief, and she'd refused to even acknowledge Taylor's presence. That infuriated another mother, who'd been quiet throughout the meal.

“I think she is the mother of Brian Kinney's _legal_ child,” Jennifer interjected without a moment's hesitation, surprising Brian and Daphne with her support. “And I think you are completely out of your mind if you think _you_ have any say in the matter.”

The 'matter' was Brian's parenting of Daphne and Justin's child. The thought stunned Lindsay. Gus was Brian's child – his _only_ child in her view – and taking on the responsibilities of this baby was, to her, an abandonment of Gus on Brian's part. Lindsay looked toward Brian, who just shrugged and sipped his beer. He was still trying to figure Jennifer out while trying to keep his anger at Lindsay's words and behavior under control. He loved his son. No question in his mind, or his heart, about that. But Gus was no longer _his_ son, was he, except in the biological sense? He'd given in to Lindsay and Melanie and had forfeited his right to any say in Gus' life. He was, for all intents and purposes, simply a checkbook. He knew he would continue to be; he would never let Gus do without. But the day to day? The heartfelt hard work of parenting? No, he'd ceded that to them. And they held that over his head at every opportunity.

“Legal child? That's bullshit. There's been no time for any adoption to go through. That takes months, at the least. And I'm pretty fucking sure Brian didn't _marry_ this girl. So he can't be Taylor's legal father.” Melanie spoke with authority, knowing the law and, from personal experience, exactly how long an adoption can take.

“This is a mistake, Brian,” Michael said. “We all miss Justin, and we know you cared about him. But you can't let guilt and grief make you...”

That was exactly the wrong thing to say. Brian's anger just wouldn't be kept quiet any longer. He looked over to make sure Taylor was okay, stood up and moved into his friends' space. “Daphne was right. You should all have shut the _fuck_ up about ten words back. You know fuck all about this. You all know fuck all about it.”

“You never gave us a chance to know fuck all about it, Brian. You didn't bother to let anyone know what was going on!”

“And this... this right here, right now, is exactly why we _didn't_ let you know, Michael. This has absolutely nothing to do with you – with any of you – yet you feel the need to criticize and bastardize my actions and my child. Fuck you. All of you.” He twisted around to face Mel and Lindsay. “And you know fuck all, too, Melanie. No, I didn't have to adopt Taylor. No, I didn't have to marry Daphne to become Taylor's legal father. All attesting documents are filed and my name is on the birth certificate. That's more than you fucking need to know.”

Michael backed off. He looked at his friend, this man he'd known and, god help him, loved for most of his life. And realized Brian was serious. Michael had never been Justin's biggest supporter, hadn't even liked him all that much for the most part. But he loved Brian. He let his eyes travel from Brian to Daphne, from Taylor to Jennifer and realized that they were _all_ really serious. When he looked back at his best friend, he saw him watching Taylor's sleeping little form, a quirky smile on his face even in the middle of all that anger, and knew that Brian was doing exactly what he wanted to do. That he, Michael, needed to grow the fuck up in a hurry if he wanted to catch up with Brian.

“I'll contest it, Brian, as Gus' mother. We all know you both lied on that form.”

“Not a single one of you has any, I repeat, _any_ , legal standing to contest this issue. I'm not naïve enough to have let that potential go unexplored.” He paused, looked again at his child sleeping so thankfully unaware. “And I assure you, Lindsay, you have no more status than anyone else in this room. If you should ever raise an issue regarding any of this, that will be the day my checkbook closes permanently. You wanted me out of Gus' life? Don't push me on this, Linds, or you may just find that you get your wish.”

Jennifer cleared her throat as she approached Lindsay. “I... lost my son to anger and hatred less than a year ago,” she said quietly. “I loved him and thought I knew what was best for him. But I refused to see just how much this man meant to him. And I certainly couldn't begin to see how much my son meant to Brian.” She met Brian's bewildered eyes. “And I'm so ashamed of myself for that.”

“Jennifer, we're all so sorry about Justin, but that has nothing to do...”

“It has everything to do with it! Everything.” She ran her fingers through the hair of the little boy resting on his mother's lap. “I'll never have my son back.” Her words were broken in the silent room. “Brian will never have the opportunity to see where that relationship might have gone. But I _have_ seen it... seen a Brian Kinney I never would have dreamed existed... seen him fall in love with a child he'd yet to meet.” Brian looked away, uncomfortable with this kind of attention. “He was born to be a father, even though he can't see it, and you apparently _won't_ see it. Don't think for a minute that I'll stand by and let you accuse him of not having enough caring in him, enough love in him for both of these children. He has that – and more.”

Brian felt a warm hand on his back as Vic added, “I think more of us know that about him than you realize, Jennifer.”

The room was silent again for a long time.

 

Brian sat with his back to the cold stone. It was the first time since the funeral that he'd been here. Couldn't face it. Took the cowardly way out and avoided even the thought of it. But tonight, after the emotional dinner with the family, he needed – wanted – whatever bit of proximity to Justin that he could get. The cemetery was wooded, beautiful and pastoral. Justin would have loved it, Brian knew, and bile rose in his throat at his reason for being here. In this place, his back against a cold reminder of the warmest smile he'd ever known, Brian Kinney cried.

“God, I fucking miss you, Justin.” He drew in a shuddered breath, letting it out in a steamy vapor on the cold evening. “You'd have given anything for me to have said that while you were alive, I know... and I hate, more than you could imagine, that I let you down there. I was a coward. But you knew that, didn't you? Knew it was all an act... Fuck, I hope you really knew that... You have to have known how much you meant to me. Right?” Brian fought back the few remaining tears and look out over the dusky trees and landscaped greenery surrounding this part of the cemetery. It was twilight – that moment just before it gets completely dark and the setting sun glinted off the smattering of February snow that rested on the gently sloping ground. It was peaceful.

“So, you're a dad now,” he said quietly as his hand scraped through the skiff that covered browned grass. “Yep. She was born on your birthday. You found a way to make me celebrate it, after all, you twat.” His laugh was a bit broken. “I need to know, Sunshine... need you to let me know I did the right fucking thing here. With Taylor. Becoming her legal father. She's all I have left of... She's beautiful, Justin, and Daphne's gonna be a fucking great mother, but I think I'm gonna need a little help on this fatherhood thing. Okay?”

Brian stood and brushed the debris from his coat, turned and ran his fingers over the name carved into the rose granite. “I do love you, kid,” he whispered shyly. “I think I always will.” As he turned and started his walk on the graveled path to the car, a small light flickering to his left made him turn. His jaw dropped a bit, then a smile overtook his face. A firefly. In fucking February. Shining and twinkling in the almost dark, and he looked back at the stone, at the beautiful name carved there, and blinked.

Just how the fuck did Justin do that?

 

 


	3. PART 3

He picked up the diaper bag, the carry seat _with_ baby, his briefcase, travel mug of coffee and headed for the car. He'd become an expert at this, and he still wondered exactly how that had happened. How had Brian Kinney become the single dad who dropped off his kid at daycare and then wheeled and dealed until quitting time? The man who could just as comfortably now fit patty-cake into his day as he could courting a multi-million dollar client? That's who he was and he had no fucking idea exactly how it had happened.

But he did know when.

At the end of August, 2002, with Taylor not quite eight months old, Daphne tearfully said goodbye and headed off to George Washington University to go after that degree in political communications. Her admissions had been deferred, thanks to the assistance of student advisors at GWU, and even the majority of her scholarship was still available to her. It didn't cover her incidental expenses, however, but Daphne's parents were taking care of most of those. They were simply thrilled to have her actually pursuing her education – something they'd been less than sure of a year ago. Of course, Brian began slipping a couple hundred into her bank account each month. He told her it was partly for a necessary supply of condoms. “ _Never_ trust the ones _they_ provide. Supply your own. Trust me on this,” he'd said. The rest of it was, he advised, for some hot clubbing clothes – with pockets. For the condoms.

He had begun taking care of Taylor alone the month before. First for a few days, then a week, then she was just there for the duration. He'd also moved into a larger place, with room for a child to actually play that the loft didn't provide. Gus loved it, too, on those occasions when he was allowed to visit. It wasn't exactly a gated community, more just a guarded one. Nevertheless it was another nail in the coffin of the legend, but necessary to keep out the sometimes still ravenous beast that was his family. He didn't really mind the hungry hoards so much anymore, though, since Michael and, he hoped, Lindsay had begun to realize he was no longer the man they thought they knew. He was an honest-to-god dad, with all the responsibility and credentials that went along with it. He didn't see Gus as much as he wanted, but more than he used to and that was pretty much all he could handle along with Taylor.

The first time Brian noticed it, he had no idea what to do. Taylor was napping in the playpen beside his chair. They'd fallen into a routine of sorts on Sundays. That had always been a down day for Brian. Now it consisted of breakfast, the park or a visit with one family or another, then home for lunch and a nap while dada caught up on paperwork or read one of the many books he'd been shunting aside. Taylor hated napping in the morning, but didn't fight one in the afternoon. Today was no different. Until it was.

He heard the giggles and looked over to see his daughter awake and staring above her, grinning. She reached up and seemed to intentionally swat at nothing and then burst into another round of giggles. She covered her face and peeked through clumsy fingers, grinning up into the empty air. Brian watched for a full minute, awed by this seeming ability to entertain herself so fully at this age. He watched her indulgently and it looked like... peek-a-boo? Suddenly she gave what looked like her 'bye-bye' wave and got a sober look on her face, as if something was troubling her. Then Taylor began to cry as if her heart was broken.

“Hey, hey firefly, what's the matter?” This was a new one for Brian. Taylor was always such a happy damn baby that it freaked most people out. She seldom cried and _never_ like this. It was anguish Brian was hearing. He held her clinging to his shirt, soaking him, until her sobs faded into a staccato pattern and her breathing hitched only occasionally. But she never took her eyes off the spot on the ceiling she'd been staring at when she awoke. Brian looked up, expecting to find a water ring, a cobweb... something... There was nothing but unadorned ceiling.

With one more sigh, and a shudder that ran through her whole body, Taylor finally quieted down. “That's my girl,” Brian whispered into the mass of dark yellow curls. “You had me worried, kid. What were you looking at, I wonder.” Brian would also wonder when it happened again. And again. Taylor was healthy and obviously happy. Her development, according to the doctor was in the excellent range. He wasn't worried, he'd convinced himself. Only curious.

 

They spent a week in D.C. visiting Daphne. They rented a suite so Daphne could re-bond with her daughter. It was bittersweet, this dance of reconnection, and Brian backed off, somewhat grateful for the opportunity to let someone else be the main caregiver. Parenting was damned hard work, physically and emotionally, he'd found out.

“Do you miss it all?” Taylor was soundly sleeping in Daphne's room, while Brian and Daphne had a beer to unwind from the excitement of the day.

“Yeah, I do,” Daphne answered. “I miss her so much, but... I know...”

“You know you're where you need to be,” Brian interrupted, his foot knocking her's for emphasis. “You do know that, right?”

“I could come back to Pittsburgh, go to CM, finish up there. I'd be with Taylor and you wouldn't be stuck being the mom _and_ dad.”

“Hold on... I'm not _stuck_ doing anything. It is _not_ a sacrifice taking care of Taylor, Daphne. You know that. And what the fuck are you thinking about, trading a political communications education in the fucking nation's capitol for some second rate poli-sci dreg at CM?”

“You're right, I know, it's just...”

“She's not going to forget her mom. I won't let that happen... So, now... fuck any hot guys lately?”

“Jesus, you really won't ever change completely, will you?”

Brian drained the last of his beer. “Fuck, I hope not.”

“Thank god.”

 

The music was loud and the men sweaty. Brian looked around the room, watching the game, the predators and their prey. It wasn't often anymore that he got out and really let loose so he took advantage of leaving Taylor with Daphne. But he easily remembered the game – hell, he'd played it on the pro circuit for the greater part of his adult life. Now he stood with his back to a bar in a room full of prospects and the anticipation he'd felt just hours earlier, the eager hunger for a moment as the lustful stud he fondly remembered, seemed simply empty. Hollow and meaningless when placed into the context of the rest of his life. Had he really ever thought this was enough? That being nothing more than a human dildo had been in any way fulfilling? He knew he had, but for the life of him now, he couldn't conjure up that feeling. Oh, he still got his needs met, could still find a willing mouth or a fast fuck. But the longing for _this_ just wasn't the same now, because what he truly longed for he could never have again – wide lustful smiles and erotically slow, blue-eyed blinks. Hands that were always slightly smudged with charcoal but knew just how to touch him. A lingering odor of diner grease mixed with the citrus of expensive shampoo.

An overwhelming sense of loss invaded him with the memories. Had it really been nearly six months ago that he and Daphne had cried together, huddled on his sofa comforting each other over the worst possible anniversary either of them could imagine? Justin was still so much a part of their every waking thought, and nearly all of Brian's unconscious ones. He'd been gone for almost a year and a half and their world was still reeling with the loss. Brian could feel the sting behind his eyes and refused to go there tonight. “Fuck.”

He shook himself and pushed all those thoughts aside as he set his sights on a tall redhead in the corner. Tonight wasn't about what he could never have again. Whether he found it hollow and empty or not, tonight was about the fact that he needed to get laid.

He laughed out loud as the Justin in his head grinned at the sweet fucking irony of _that_.

 

Brian's legs bounced up and down, the little girl sitting on them giggled loudly at the motion even as her fingers pulled at her left ear again. The wait in the pediatrician's office was longer than usual and Taylor had been getting a bit antsy. She wanted to be mobile. Unfortunately for a child her age that meant crawling and, though he'd lost a lot of his former preoccupation with pristine order, letting his daughter crawl around on a pediatrician's floor with fuck knew what assortment of germs was a bit more than Brian could allow. So, horsey it was.

“Taylor Kinney?”

“Finally,” Brian complained. If it had been his own doctor's appointment, he'd have already rescheduled and been on to the next thing.

“I'm sorry, Mr. Kinney. There was a bit of an emergency with Dr. Patterson. Her associate, Dr. Marten will be seeing Taylor today.” The nurse, Tabby, smiled apologetically.

“I'm assuming she went to medical school?”

“Actually, Dr. Marten graduated top of his class and is now awaiting notification about the Nobel Prize in Medicine.”

“Ah, an underachiever.”

“It's always a pleasure when you stop by, Mr. Kinney,” Tabby snarked, indicating the exam table in an open room. “You know the routine. Down to the diaper. And _you_ have a nice day, now.”

Taylor was always ready to be in nothing more than her diaper. She patted her naked belly and was engrossed in her own navel when Dr. Marten entered. “Ah, I see we have an introspective visitor today,” Dr. Marten said as he leaned down to Taylor's level. “You planning on becoming a philosopher, perhaps?” She grinned at this new man and then went back to playing with her bellybutton.

“Her philosophic bent appears to be toward solipsism.”

“Yeah, that's pretty much par for the course at this age. They always make me feel fairly insignificant in the scheme of things.” The doctor chuckled and held his hand out, facing Brian for the first time. He felt a vague sense of familiarity, as if he'd met the man before, though he couldn't recall specifics. “I'm Teo Marten. Sorry about the drama and the wait earlier.”

“S'okay. Shit happens.” He couldn't help noticing how attractive the man was as he shook his hand. A little on the stocky side for Brian's taste, but not bad. Tall, dark hair and eyes. A Mediterranean look about him – Brian would guess there was some Greek or Sicilian heritage there. “I'm Brian Kinney.”

“So, what brings the Kinneys here today?”

It turned out to be a slight infection and they'd gotten it early, so only a decongestant was recommended. At that pronouncement, Brian heaved a rather heavy sigh of relief. With all of Justin's allergies, he had fears that Taylor would have reactions to a whole range of medications. There were only three days before the obligatory round-robin of holiday festivities began and Brian, though grateful that Taylor was healthy, almost wished he could have avoided the drama by calling her in sick. He then wanted to kick his own ass for ever considering using his daughter so deceitfully.

On Thanksgiving morning Brian woke to the sound of rain pelting his window. He groaned, his head pounding from the unaccustomed amount of alcohol he'd had the night before. He'd taken full advantage of Daphne's return for the holiday. She'd taken Taylor with her to spend some time with the Chanders and Brian had spent the evening with the old gang, reminding himself of the stud he used to be, however momentarily. Unfortunately, he hadn't been that man for some time and he was paying for his brief walk-on as the Legend with a hangover from hell. _How far the mighty have fallen_ , he thought, with a groan.

To be honest, though he'd enjoyed getting out with the boys again, Brian hadn't much enjoyed the night out as a whole. He was no longer the Legend he'd so carefully crafted, momentarily or otherwise, and without that particular mythos driving him, he again found the club experience somewhat lacking, much like it had felt in DC. It was all about immediate needs and instant gratification and objectification, concepts he no longer held in quite such high esteem. Now his personal life was as much about long-term goals as was his professional life. It struck Brian that his own father had never grown out of that childish need for the instant, had never found the kind of quiet excitement that looking forward to first steps and first words and first smiles could provide. And then it struck him that his hatred for his parents had, somewhere along the line, taken a back seat to his pity for them.

 

Thanksgiving at the Novotny house was not something Brian was accustomed to participating in. He'd always thought it crass to gluttonously celebrate the decimation of an indigenous culture. He'd given in this year, though, because of Taylor. Daphne had complained that he couldn't raise her in isolation any longer. Personally, he knew she was just wrong on the face of it, that Taylor got plenty of stimulation and socialization at day care and when Gus came to visit, but he caved in the interest of domestic harmony. Bullshit the late Brian Fucking Kinney would never have given in to. Brian Daddy Kinney, however, was a much easier touch.

Taylor squealed when she saw her father. At nearly eleven months now, she'd developed a boisterous and pleasant personality, but a stubborn one. She twisted in Daphne's arms to get to Brian. She wanted what she wanted, and right now she wanted her daddy.

“Hey, firefly, miss me that much, did ya?”

“She was happy as a clam with me, Brian... until _you_ came into view.” The words were teasing, but Brian could hear the undercurrent of hurt in them. Taylor twisted and babbled on as she pulled herself into her father's arms.

“I'm just the one she associates with food and designer clothing, mommy. And her attention span is still about two seconds long.” He kissed Daphne and touched his forehead to hers. “She'll always need her mom, Daph.”

“I know, and I'm okay,” she said. “Really... It's just really hard, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. But once you have that sheepskin in your hot little hands, things'll change.”

“You three come to stand in the doorway or did you come to eat my turkey?” Debbie could feel the slight tension between the two adults standing in her foyer. She understood it. She'd been a young, single mother who'd had to work long hours to support her family. That'd been hard enough. She couldn't imagine the pain of leaving your child for months on end. Brian was doing a hell of a job, though, being the father the little girl needed and deserved. She smiled bittersweetly thinking of the ways Justin Taylor had changed all their lives. So many ways he'd never had a chance to see. She blinked away the tears, smiled and reached her arms out for Taylor. “Now, let me get a good look at my little girl.”

Brian chuckled as Taylor tightened her grip around his neck and settled her little face into his shoulder. She wasn't giving up her daddy right now.

“Da. Da!”

Brian's eyes got wide and Daphne's eyes grew wet. She looked up at Brian and was nearly knocked over by the glow that seemed to creep across his face with his smile. “She called you 'da',” she whispered.

“Well? He _is_ her da!” Debbie snarked, but she understood. The fresh tears in her eyes attested to that. This was a momentous occasion for a parent, that first moment of real recognition. Even more so for these particular parents, she guessed, given the circumstances. “When you're ready,” she placed her hand on Brian's cheek, “it's time to give thanks.”

Brian sat with Taylor on his lap for the duration of dinner, alternately handing her bites of food from his plate and trying to listen to the various conversations going on around them. Emmett was discussing his latest love interest, Ted was going on about some problem at work, Michael was making light fun of Brian's domesticity. Gus, unfortunately, wasn't there as the girls were visiting Melanie's grandparents in Boca. Vic had been unusually quiet, seemingly fascinated by the little girl that had charmed them all today. He was particularly fascinated by the way she seemed to be holding some kind of one-sided joke session with thin air.

“She do that often?”

Brian looked toward Taylor and then Vic, questioningly. “Do what?”

“It's like she's laughing at something,” Vic replied as Taylor barked out a hoarse giggle and waved her hand.

“She's done that shit since she was a few months old, actually. Doctor says she fine, just seems to keep herself entertained easily.”

“I noticed that, too, last night.” Daphne hadn't really put much thought into it at the time, but thinking back the moment did seem unusual. “When she was in bed last night, she giggled and then got so silent, by turns. Like she was listening to a story, or something. Then she cried like she was in pain.”

At that moment, Taylor giggled again, tapped Brian on the arm and said “Da!” to no one in particular. Vic smiled broadly and touched the little girl's nose. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I think that is definitely your da.”

 

By the time Christmas rolled around, Brian was ready to pull his hair out. The incident at Thanksgiving kept creeping into his thoughts and he was beginning to worry that something was seriously wrong with his daughter. And her temperature kept spiking. He'd taken her to the doctor, again, but her temperature was always normal by the time they arrived and he was repeatedly dismissed with a teasing admonition of being a too-doting father.

By this time, Teo Marten had pretty much taken over Taylor's care in lieu of Dr. Patterson, and he and Brian had become friends, of a sort, during the visits. Brian learned that he was, indeed, of Greek heritage, that he was 35 and had been practicing medicine for five years, that he was queer by orientation and Gnostic by choice. Brian snorted at that last fact, commenting that his own childhood religion was as far removed from the personal experience and ethos of Gnosticism as it could get.

“My mother is Greek Orthodox. According to her, I'm hell bound.” Teo shrugged at his own comment.

“Well...we have that in common, too, then,” Brian replied, with a smirk.

As Brian and Taylor were leaving from yet another, apparently unnecessary, office visit, Teo stopped them at the door. “I'm probably breaking all kinds of rules, written and otherwise, but... well... could I interest you in a cup of coffee sometime?”

Every mantra Brian had ever had began running through his head. _I don't do dates. I don't do relationships._ He knew, intellectually, that by now those old rules had been buried a long time ago, right along with the young man who'd challenged them. Yeah, he was lonely. In a way he'd never been lonely before. But suddenly, the thought of tarnishing what he felt for Justin by even sharing coffee with another man chilled him to the core. He could fuck them, but intentionally making time to be with someone? It was a kind of betrayal, in his mind, and one he'd never really expected to ever address. No. Just...

“Teo ... I...”

“Hey. It's okay. I've been turned down before, Brian.”

“I'm just not... don't know if I'll ever be in a place for even coffee.” Brian had never thought it necessary to explain himself or his actions before, but the look of openness on Teo's face seemed to impel him. “I lost someone...”

“God, Brian, I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

“No, you couldn't have. I don't talk about him a lot.” He laughed sadly and playfully bit the fingers Taylor was poking into his mouth. “But I can't keep him out of my head for long.”

“It's really okay, Brian. I understand... If you ever need to talk about it... him... I'm a great sounding board.”

Brian nodded and smiled faintly, and walked out the exam room door. He didn't think he'd be taking the good doctor up on that anytime soon.

Christmas came and went and the best present Brian and Daphne received was their daughter's first steps. She took them on Christmas afternoon as they were all recovering from the morning's haul. It was like she waited for them to be together to share her milestones. This time, Jennifer was present, as well. She cried. Tears of joy for Taylor's steps, and tears of heartbreak for her son's loss. Molly took Taylor's hand and led her, balancing tentatively on bare toes, to her grandmother. With a squeal and a grin she promptly fell flat on her butt, making her grandmother laugh again.

 


	4. PART 4

 

Brian hadn't thought much more about Teo's invitation after that awkward moment, until the day before Taylor's first birthday. They were visiting Daphne in DC, opting this time to stay in her apartment, teeming as it was with books and school paraphernalia. She'd managed to make the 700 square feet quite comfortable, albeit not in a style that Brian would have chosen.

“Um... I've been seeing someone.” The comment seemed to come out of nowhere.

They'd been watching a movie with Taylor, who had, predictably, fallen in love with animation. She clapped her hands as animals ran amok on the screen, captured by the movement and color. “Gog,” she chirped. Her vocabulary was increasing daily.

Brian looked at Daphne. “Serious?”

“Could be.”

“Good for you.” Brian chuckled as Taylor reached out to pet a dog on the screen.

“Is that all you're going to say?”

Brian tilted his head and rolled his lips for a moment. “You don't need my approval, Daphne. You're a big girl.”

Daphne sighed and tossed a pillow at Brian's head. “His name's Charles Jonah.”

“Great, a man with two first names,” Brian teased.

“ _This_ from a man with two first names.”

“Kinney is _not_ a first name,” he retorted. “Okay, go ahead and give me the details. I know you're dying to.” He watched the shy smile creep up on her lips.

“He's 30...”

“Ah, an older man. But he real question is... how big's his dick?”

“Oh, shut _up_. He's younger than _you_ are... and his dick's just... fine, thank you.” She blushed and looked coyly at Brian. “He works at the Capitol. He's a speech writer for Sen. McCutchen... He's fucking gorgeous.”

Brian grinned. He wouldn't have expected less. “He know you have a kid?”

“Yeah. I told him everything... when it looked like it might get serious.”

They both seemed to suddenly realized that the room was much too quiet and looked for Taylor. She'd fallen asleep holding her blanket, the middle two fingers of one hand slightly tucked into her mouth. Daphne smiled and carried her daughter off to bed. Brian had two bottles of beer ready when she returned and she curled up under his arm on the sofa. “I don't know if I ever want to get married or anything like that, but... I'm lonely, Brian. I want someone to just hold me sometimes. You know?”

 _Yeah_ , Brian thought, _I know_. For the first time Brian let his mind wander to Teo Marten. But when he tried to imagine the man's brown eyes, he could only envision those ringed with blue. Dark brown hair morphed into wheaten blond. _Yeah_ , he thought again as he closed his eyes, going with the memory. _I know_.

 

January skies in DC were too damned open, Brian decided as he tossed aside his blankets and pulled himself off the sofa. Daphne's apartment was actually one of four in a converted Victorian house, only fifteen minutes drive from the university. The rent was a little higher than some places immediately around the campus itself, but Brian had insisted that she have her own laundry facilities and be in an area where she would feel safe and secure, so they had decided on something in the Logan's Circle area. Brian split the difference with the Chanders on the rent.

One of the initial draws for this particular place had been the windows. The old Victorian had lots of them, and the renovations had made good use of the existing structure. But as Brian had tried desperately to sleep, eventually giving up the effort, he cursed the fucking things. Most of his night had been spent staring out the large window at the end of the sofa, watching the moon compete with a universe of stars for dominance. The effect was haunting and melodramatic and fucking romantic, and he couldn't get past the way it reminded him of a certain night almost two years ago. The way it conjured up images of shifting lights playing like stars, chasing two men as they danced, made him suddenly need to clear his throat. Fuck!

He'd always hated birthdays on principle. Expecting adulation for something one had no control over, like the day of one's birth, seemed a bit gratuitous, not to mention the presage that aging and its effects are inevitable. Justin, however, had always appreciated the traditions, the ceremonial brouhahas that found their way into life. He'd grinned and gloated for days about Brian's own death-day celebration, loving the teasing and not so subtle reminders that Brian, too, was simply a mortal man. Brian wondered now, as he stood staring into a cosmos that held so many painful memories and potential joys, how he could ever have ignored Justin's eighteenth, how he could have so easily dismissed something that was so important to every young man – how he could have so disillusioned that particular young man. It seemed the epitome of cruelty in retrospect.

Here he was now, standing in wait to celebrate his daughter's first birthday, on the occasion of her real father's twentieth. He knew now. Taylor's birth and the import of that day had taught him well, and it was a lesson he'd needed to learn. Brian blinked and cleared his throat again and spoke into the night, his breath clouding up the glass in front of him. “Happy birthday, Justin. I won't forget. Promise.”

Through a veil of damp lashes as he closed his eyes, he saw the sky shine and twinkle before him. It was the stars, he told himself. Just those damnable dancing stars.

 

“Mmm mmm...”

Daphne laughed and kissed Taylor's sticky fingers, pretending to eat the generous offering of second hand pancakes. “You've outdone yourself, Mr. Kinney. Her sticky fingers are the best I've ever tasted.”

“Why, thank you, dear,” Brian facetiously responded. “I figured pancakes were the closest _I_ was getting to baking a birthday cake, and she can have just as much fun making a mess.”

“We'll get her a small cake later and let her tear into that. Have to have pictures for the fams or they'll never let us forget it.”

Brian nodded his agreement, knowing she was right. The families were all upset enough with them as it was for not including them in this day.

Daphne and Brian had made an agreement months ago that two days of the year were just for the three of them. Taylor and Justin's birthday and the remembrance of the day Justin was murdered. On those two days, they would stop whatever they were doing and just be together as a family. At least until Taylor was old enough to opt out. When she did that – and they knew it would eventually happen – then it would be Brian and Daphne themselves.

“You know, it should be freaking me the fuck out when she does that shit.”

Following Brian's eyes, Daphne watched Taylor lifting her sticky fingers up above her, squinting her eyes as if she was looking closely at something. “Nmm nmm nmm,” she chanted with a goofy grin. “Mamama.”

Brian shook his head and shrugged. He couldn't dismiss a little quickening in his chest that got more and more prominent each time Taylor displayed her odd behavior. He'd been assured time and again by by Teo and Dr. Patterson, who'd resumed Taylor's care, that Taylor was fine physically and behaviorally. But they'd never really seen this, only had Brian's descriptions to go by.

It really didn't freak him out, but it did make him feel a bit... A bit what? Anxious? Worried? He wasn't sure, but as he watched his daughter seemingly enjoy encounters with no one, he grew increasingly uncomfortable.

 

When they'd tucked Taylor into bed that night, a tired and happy little girl snuggled up tightly to a new purple and yellow firefly pillow, those two middle fingers resting loosely between her lips, Brian listened as Daphne told him stories of Justin and other birthdays. Of cakes and candles shared with only his family and her, since Justin had never been one to have an abundance of friends. Much like Brian, Justin hadn't been the most popular of boys in school. He was the bright one, the sensitive artistic one from the beginning and that set him apart as an outsider.

“On his fifteenth birthday, all he'd wanted was permission to take a special art seminar one of the galleries was offering. It didn't even cost anything. Just required parents' permission. But his dad absolutely refused to allow it.” Daphne's voice reflected the hurt and anger she felt for her best friend. “His dad got him a football instead.”

“His dad was an asshole,” Brian said, kicking himself once more for his own dismissal of Justin on the one birthday he could have celebrated with him.

“But, he just smiled and said thank you very graciously... then went upstairs and forged his mother's name on the permission slip.” Daphne laughed. “He ended up hating the seminar, but it didn't matter. It still went in his win column.”

“Shit,” Brian laughed. “He really _was_ a scheming little twat.” Brian ran his fingers through a discarded bow leftover from one of Taylor's presents, and wrapped the length of ribbon around his wrist. Let it fall, wrapped it again. “I miss him so fucking much sometimes.”

Daphne untangled the ribbon from Brian's hand, pulling his arm around her shoulders. “I know.”

 

By the time the dust had settled from the holidays and Taylor's birthday, and various families had been appeased with visits and sleepovers and outings with their only granddaughter, spring was arriving. It had come as a bit of a surprise to Brian that Michael had enmeshed himself into Taylor's life. He'd become the beloved uncle and Brian's greatest supporter.

“It hurt for awhile,” Michael had confessed, months earlier, over beer and pool at Woody's. Jennifer had taken Taylor for the night, and Brian had suggested a get together for their little group. The conversation shifted from old times to new realities over the course of the night. “I just knew I was losing my friend and being shut out. Took a while to sort it out.”

“You did kind of do a 180, Brian,” Ted said. “Not only kept your friends at arms length, but one day you're shoving your boy-toy aside for the nearest trick, and the next you're changing his kid's diapers.”

“Teddy!” Emmett had his own issues with Brian, but to so cruelly taunt him about Justin was simply over the top.

The comment stung Brian deeply. Not that he didn't think he deserved it somewhat. But... fuck.

“So, we've finally arrived at the requisite Brian Kinney is an Asshole portion of the evening, have we? At least some things in life don't change.”

“He's right, Teddy,” Emmett admonished his friend, slowly stirring a pink martini. “That was a bit intentionally cruel, don't you think?” He knew, as did everyone around the table, that Ted's attitude had nothing to do with Justin or Taylor. It had everything to do with Ted's long-held jealousy of and resentment toward Brian. He also knew that there was no way Brian could take it as anything but painful.

Ted rolled his eyes and snorted. “Right. Like the name Brian Kinney isn't synonymous with intentional cruelty.”

“Well boys, looks like the time has come for me to leave you to it.” Brian rose from his seat and tossed money on the table between the remaining three men. “There...I'll even pay for your next round of drinks. Or perhaps _Theodore_ could use it to upgrade his wardrobe. Wanna play out your idea of Brian Kinney?" He sneered down at Ted. "At least _try_ to dress the part.”

Truthfully, Brian was bleeding just a bit inside. Theodore wasn't really accusing him of anything he hadn't already accused himself of. And he knew Theodore had never been his biggest fan. He'd hoped, however, that even he had actually come to understand the changes Brian had made. To have someone so easily pass Justin and Taylor off the way Theodore had...

“Wait... Brian,” Michael interjected quickly. “And Ted, you need to shut the fuck up. Brian did what he had to do.”

“Didn't he always?” Ted asked. “Fucking everything with a dick or fathering children everywhere, Brian Kinney always did exactly what he wanted to do.”

“Fuck you, Ted.”

“Don't worry your pretty little head, Mikey. No need to throw yourself in front of a bullet for me. He's just toeing the party line, right, Theodore?”

Brian knew he would have, at one time, simply played the man's comments off. He'd have swallowed them down with a bottle of Beam and a good run of the backroom. But, he wasn't that man any more. That had changed with the swing of a bat and the birth of a child.

“And thanks for proving that I made the right decision in not letting you in on my life, as if I had any obligation to do so in the first place. There have only been three people in my life I've ever needed to justify myself to. Two of them are toddlers and the other one is dead. You're right that I failed Justin by listening to your kind of bullshit – and my own. But you're fucked up if you think I'll let that bullshit make me fail the other two.” He turned and kissed Michael lightly on the lips. “Later, Uncle Mikey... And Theodore? At least I had the option to both fuck and father. Think about it.”

In the months following that encounter, Michael had shown himself to actually _be_ Brian's best friend. The jealousies and insecurities Michael had held on to for so long seemed to dissipate as he watched his friend changing his life around completely for a little wisp of a girl. In the beginning Brian thought Michael was just trying another way to live out some fantasy 'family' life with himself and Taylor in starring roles. But when Michael shyly introduced Ben Bruckner to his favorite little girl, with a look of complete adoration on his face for both Ben and Taylor, Brian realized Michael really was happy being his friend.

It was Michael who convinced Brian to risk everything to start his own firm, when Brian found out that Ryder was selling out instead of making Brian partner.

It was Michael who inadvertently named this new business, when he recalled an offhanded comment Justin had made one night after a few drinks at Babylon and a few hours of watching Brian's undeniable effect on the room's sexual energy.

And it was Michael and Ben who sat in silence with Brian after a phone call from Jennifer the last week in April of 2003.

Chris Hobbs had finally struck a deal. There would be no trial. He would plead to voluntary manslaughter, rather than third-degree murder, and receive the shortest prison sentence possible for that crime. Hobbs would spend ten years in jail. He would be classified as a felon for the remainder of his life.

Jennifer had been overjoyed with the deal. She'd grown weary of delay after delay, of depositions and questioning. She had no wish to revisit the horror of her son's death through a trial, to watch it play out again in the media in all its salacious detail. Brian had been less than joyful with the deal, however. Yes, he was weary of the flawed system, too. He was fully aware, however, of the distinction between the charges, and the implications that voluntary manslaughter carried with it. Although the sentence imposed would likely have been the same either way, the definition of the crime, in Brian's mind, made all the difference in the world. To him. For Justin. _Especially_ for Justin.

“He's going to be in prison for ten years, Brian. There isn't even any hope for a parole or anything, right?”

They'd been sitting in silence for over half an hour before Michael had broken the quiet of the room.

“No. No parole.” There was a lifelessness in Brian's response that Michael and Ben could almost see. That phone call had cost him a lot more than they could imagine.

“That's... it's a good thing, isn't it?” Brian didn't respond. “Brian?”

“Hey,” Brian finally said. “Watch the firefly for me, will ya? I need to... just keep an eye on her for me.” Before either Michael or Ben could question him, Brian had his keys and was out the door.

 

For only the second time Brian sat with his back against the rose granite headstone. A small arrangement of iris rested on the ground below the inscription. They looked like the ones Lindsay had always tended in her side garden. There was a small, smooth stone resting on the narrow flat space on top of the marker. _Linds and_ _Mel_. Brian almost smiled. They'd never really accepted Taylor or Daphne, or Brian's connection to them, but they had loved Justin. He'd never deny that about them.

“Hey,” he whispered into the cool afternoon air as his fingers played with the neatly cropped grass. “I see you've had some company.” He turned his head and let his cheek rest against the chill of the granite. “I needed to be the one to tell you, Justin... Hobbs is in jail. He'll be in for at least a decade. Maybe, if we're lucky, he'll piss off big asshole enough to make sure he never walks out the gate again... Yeah, yeah, I know. You'd probably find some way to forgive his homicidal ass, but then... you always were a bigger man than me.... They fucking let him plead to voluntary manslaughter, Justin! Knowing your penchant for trivia, relevant and otherwise, I'm sure you know what the implications are with _that_... That he was provoked, we so fucking _provoked_ him that he lost his grasp on reality and...” He took a breath, slowing himself down. “...and I just needed to sit here for a while.”

Brian talked for an hour, about how much Taylor loved that fugly firefly pillow she'd gotten from Daphne. How he couldn't keep up with her now that she was running, and how her vocabulary had increased and she could string words together. About how freaking happy she was and how funny she could be. About her strange episodes of giggles and staring into empty space. About how Justin would _so_ enjoy making fun of the very domestic nature of his life now.

About how, even after two years, Brian still missed him so much his fucking chest ached with it.

Brian never told Michael where he spent those few hours. Michael never asked. But he knew that Brian was more at peace when he came back. That was good enough for him.

A little over a week later, Taylor, Brian and Daphne spent a few days on a beach in Clearwater. On the 6th of May, Taylor smiled up into a calm blue sky as she opened her fingers and let a single white balloon sail free over the Gulf of Mexico.

 


	5. PART 5

 

Brian had no idea he could survive at this level of exhaustion. With the new business needing so much of his detailed attention and Taylor's new found ambulation, he was getting around four hours sleep a night, at most. He did recognize the irony in that – that BFK would have found four hours of sleep a night a luxury and BDK found it to be a serious problem. That all his years of casting mocking aspersions on the pathetically underachieving lives of all those heteronormative wannabes, the ones he so often disparaged for complaining about their boring lives was coming back to bite him in the ass. They weren't complaining because they were bored, they were complaining because they were fucking _tired_.

He wasn't an idiot, though. He knew a big part of the issue was that his body was now operating in the clean and sober mode, lacking all the chemical stimulants and artificial energy boosts that had kept him running so efficiently with minimal natural reserves. Now it was all him. In the fallout from his new chemical sobriety and increased mental and physical demands, he'd broken down and enlisted more assistance from Jennifer and the family. Somehow, their help with simply dropping off and picking up Taylor from daycare, with keeping her through dinner once in awhile allowed him to maintain at least some modicum of adult sanity. But his life was seriously lacking in adult interaction that wasn't centered around advertising and marketing, and it had been months since he'd spent any time for himself.

When Mikey invited him to dinner as the holiday season approached, he jumped at the opportunity to sit down and eat in the presence of other adult gay men, even if it was just Mikey and Ben. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he should have found this whole scenario pathetic. And no, the irony of the fact that he didn't wasn't lost on him either. He was now just a happy mass of ironic contradictions, wasn't he?

Brian realized he'd been set up the minute he walked into their house and he couldn't help being a little pissed off that they thought he'd fall for this shit. There, sitting on the sofa in Michael and Ben's small living room was none other than Dr. Teo Marten. _Well_ , Brian thought, _if they're hoping for some blind date love match, they're fucking out of luck_.

“Oh, shit.”

Michael looked quizzically at Teo's comment for a moment, then smiled and proceeded with the introductions. “Teo Marten, I'd like you to meet my best friend, Brian Kinney.”

Brian tucked his tongue inside his cheek and snorted. “Dr. Marten. Finally getting that coffee, I see.”

“I promise you, Brian, I had no idea you were the friend Ben and Michael were referring to. I would never make you uncomfortable like that.”

“Yeah, I know how persuasive these two can be,” Brian said. “And I gathered from the rather formal introduction that you weren't aware of who was coming tonight.”

Even though it was a bit uncomfortable at first no one made a move to leave. Ben had apparently met Teo through some university connections, found out he was single, and the rest was all Mikey and his Novotny subtlety.

Michael finally tugged Brian's coat out of his hands and tossed it in the general direction of a coat rack. “You've been whining for weeks now about needing to be in the company of adults, Brian. So sit down and enjoy yourself and shut the fuck up.”

The glare Brian gave Michael made Teo laugh out loud. “So, how _is_ the divine Miss T?”

The rest of the evening was more pleasurable than Brian would have imagined. Ben and Michael sat back with twin smiles and occasional smirks, giving each other mental high-fives as they watched the interaction between their friends. Brian wasn't really surprised that he enjoyed Teo's company. He'd already figured out the man was accomplished and intelligent and a good conversationalist. After dinner he'd somehow invited him back to his place for a drink. With Taylor home in bed, he knew that's all it would amount to, but he was nonetheless a bit shocked that he'd extended the invitation.

 

Jennifer was always pleased to watch Taylor for a few hours in Taylor's home, to see her interact in her everyday environment. Usually she took Taylor home with her for their visits, but when Brian needed the occasional babysitter, she was more than happy to be the one he turned to. She loved her granddaughter fiercely and would spend time with her at any opportunity. She smiled whenever she thought that in a few more years, Molly would be able to take on that job for short periods, too.

Yet being here, in Brian's house, was always a bit melancholy for her. Although Justin had never seen this place, had never set foot through this threshold, there was a presence of him in every corner. A series of charcoal sketches he'd done of various friends from Liberty Avenue had been framed and artfully placed on the south wall. Two old sketchbooks were displayed on that expensive coffee table, as if they were prized, published tomes. On Brian's credenza, snapshots of Justin with Daphne and Brian were interspersed with those of Taylor. Jennifer even recognized a few of Justin's favorite books of fiction scattered throughout Brian's bookshelf. Being here, in Brian's space, was where she truly understood all that her son had meant to this enigmatic man. And realized just how much the man had truly lost, how lonely he was.

When she realized that Brian had brought someone home with him from his dinner at Michael's, she couldn't help feeling a little pang of resentment at this intruder into her son's memory. Jennifer wasn't a fool, however, and Brian was a handsome and virile young man. And... it had been over two years. Yes, it stung a little that this man was here, but it was time. So she smiled as she shook Teo Marten's hand, kissed Brian's cheek softly and headed home.

 

Brian checked on Taylor, tucking the covers around her shoulders and brushing his fingertips through her long curls. She opened her eyes for a moment, then smiled as she returned to sleep.

“She good?”

“Yeah. Jennifer's great with her.” Brian poured two bourbons and handed one to Teo. “Caring grandmothers are something I'm not all that familiar with, but Taylor seems to love her.”

There was an awkward pause as they sat on opposite ends of the sofa with nothing but quiet between them. Then Brian laughed lightly. “You know, I don't think I've ever felt awkward around a man in my life before.”

“Please don't feel awkward on my account. I've pretty much got that covered on this end.” Teo shifted uncomfortably. “I apologize again for the mix-up this evening. I honestly didn't realize...”

“Don't... I've known Michael a very, _very_ long time. His intentions are good, but...”

“He oversteps at times?”

“When it comes to me, overstepping is Mikey's stock in trade.” Brian smirked. The got serious again. “Listen, Teo... I'm not really sure why I even invited you here tonight. This type of intimate little one-on-one isn't my usual... style, shall we say.”

“You told me once that you'd lost someone. Is that why...” He let the question dangle.

The sigh that escaped Brian was long and filled with what he couldn't say. _The one I lost didn't even get this kind of intimacy_ , he thought. _The one who should have received it_. Suddenly it became imperative that he tell this man about Justin. Tell about the one who really _had_ deserved the kind of intimacy that this night implied. “Justin was eighteen when he died. Murdered because he was gay,” he began. “I sat in that fucking hospital hallway for hours... my hands covered in his blood... _waiting_... I think that was the first time in nearly twenty years that I'd prayed...”

Teo Marten sat silent, listening to the pain in Brian's words and voice, and remembered the hint of recognition he'd had when he'd first met him at the office.

He'd _seen_ him that night, at the hospital. A beautiful, broken man sitting nearly catatonic in one of those nondescript gray hospital chairs, his formal attire bloody and tears streaking his face. He'd been visiting a patient late and couldn't help being struck by the devastation on the man's face. It was the look of someone who'd lost everything. Now, more than anything, he wanted to hold him, to fill his ears with useless platitudes – _it's okay, it'll be okay_. He knew that for Brian Kinney, however, some things would never really be okay again.

They sat for a long time that night, each nursing a single drink, as Teo listened to Brian talk about Justin.

 

They saw each other a few times over the next few weeks. Once in passing at the clinic when Taylor had another of her elusive fevers, and a couple of times for drinks at a quiet little bar near Brian's office. Brian kept it casual. He wasn't thinking beyond friendship, and maybe not even that far. He wouldn't take him to his bed, or even to the backroom. That would confuse the issue, Brian knew. Put Teo into a category that had only ever held Justin, that more-than-a-fuck category.

It was Jennifer who suggested to Brian, in her inimitable way, that Teo was more than Brian's friend.

“You should invite Teo to have Christmas dinner with us, Brian. Didn't you say he wasn't close to his parents? He should at leastl feel part of one at Christmas, don't you think?”

Brian had frozen for a moment at the suggestion. She wasn't... Jennifer Taylor was _not_ trying to hook him up, for chrissake. _Was_ she? That was Mikey's style. Mikey was the one who believed you had to be part of a couple to be some kind of real person, not Jennifer.

It wasn't that Brian hadn't thought about it, but that he hadn't thought about it _seriously_. He enjoyed Teo's company, his wit and ability to laugh at the idiocy that made up so much of human nature. Their interests and family backgrounds were similar and they were both ambitious and cared about Taylor. They had enough in common to get along amicably and enough not in common to their keep their conversations interesting. But... she was Justin's _mother_ , for fuck sake.

And in the moment Brian hated her.

“Get out, Jennifer.”

“What? Brian?” She had been packing Taylor's things for a night at grandma's. Suddenly the half-empty bag in her hand weighed a hundred pounds.

“Get the _fuck_ out of my house. Now.”

Jennifer realized he was serious, but she wasn't honestly sure of the reason. Suggesting that Teo share their Christmas dinner with them? This seemed an over-reaction for such a suggestion. “Okay. Let me finish getting Taylor's things...”

“No. Just leave her things and... _get_ _out_.” He couldn't imagine letting his daughter go home with Jennifer tonight. He walked over and poured himself a very large bourbon and kicked it back. No, tonight he needed Taylor, he needed alcohol and he needed to forget these... these feelings that didn't belong here, in his house, in his gut. He turned his back to Jennifer, dismissing her.

“I'm not leaving without my granddaughter, Brian. Not while you're so angry _and_ drinking.” She rested herself quietly against one of the deep blue wing chairs and spoke again, just as quietly. “If she stays here, so do I. You're not getting rid of me.”

Brian's face tightened up at Jennifer's words and he clamped his eyes shut against the sting he felt there.

 _You can't get rid of me, Brian. I'm on to you_.

He could feel the burn in his nose and the lump in his throat and he wasn't fucking giving in to that shit. But Jennifer could see the rhythmic shake of the man's shoulders. She placed herself between Brian and the bar cart, took the glass from him and placed it on the marble top, and held his hands in hers.

“Oh, sweetheart. You can't do this to yourself anymore. You can't do this to _him_.”

Jennifer had, of course, heard all the stories of Brian Kinney, the heartless, promiscuous club-boy. And she'd believed them, each and every one, before her son had died. But the Brian Kinney she knew as Taylor's father was so far removed from the man in those stories that they might as well have been two different people. _This_ is the man her son loved. Stubborn and hard-headed – even intentionally cruel at times. But also generous and gentle and so deeply caring that he hurt with it.

“My son gave you something very special, Brian. He loved you and showed you that you _are_ capable of loving someone.” She placed her right hand on Brian's chest, her palm absorbing the steady beat. “Do _not_ take that gift lightly.”

“You're as full of romantic bullshit as your son was,” Brian finally said, and buried his face in hair that was so like Justin's.

_Ridiculously romantic._

“Well, he had to learn it from someone.”

 

At Jennifer Taylor's Christmas dinner, Daphne passed a wet-wipe to Brian for their daughter's hands. Taylor still hadn't fully mastered the use of a spoon and preferred her fingers. She picked up one small, green pea from her plate and studied it carefully before mashing it between her thumb and forefinger. She laughed at the feel of it and offered it to the man sitting to her left. “Icky geen,” she chirped happily.

“Yes, Miss T, that is definitely some icky green,” Teo Marten replied with a grin as he pretended to eat.

 

“Brian, Debbie Novotny's here to see you.”

“Send her on in, Cynthia.”

Not that he hadn't been expecting it, but he really didn't want to do this here, in his office. He'd already gone a round with Mikey about missing the big birthday bash for Ben and rehashing the matter with Debbie wasn't high on his to-do list today. Then, again, might as well get it over with.

“Debbie. How nice of you to visit me. Bring the whips and chains today, or just the tar and feathers?”

“Nah, left all that at home, kiddo. Today it's just torture by lemon bar.”

“God, I think I prefer the whips. No calories and at least a potential for orgasm.”

“You actively practicing at being the asshole again, or is it all just coming back naturally?” She placed the small bag of treats on Brian's desk. “If you don't want 'em, take 'em home for Taylor. Just put the attack dog back on the leash, will ya?”

Brian looked a bit sheepish. Okay, so he'd already had to go on the defensive once today. Deb, however, wasn't a part of that and he needed to remind himself that things aren't necessarily as they once were.

“Point taken, Deb. So, what can I do for you this afternoon?”

“Well, for starters you can let me tell you this is a fucking nice place you got here.” It was the first time she'd been in the building since the launch party and that had taken place mainly in the lobby and conference room. But Brian's office was another thing. Sleek, open, very... officious. She chuckled when she noticed the drain in the floor next to her chair. “See you kept the feel of the place.”

“Keeps me in touch with my hedonistic youth.” Brian sat back and played with a paper clip. “But you didn't come here to critique the office décor... What's up?”

“Michael...”

“Deb...”

“Will you just fucking hear me out? Christ, what is it with you boys and your constant need to shut me up?”

Brian just smirked at that and gave Debbie a nod to continue.

“As I was saying...” She gave Brian a narrow-eyed gaze, complete with wagging finger. “Michael will get over his snit. The only reason he's pissed is because this is the first birthday Ben's shared with him and he wanted to go overboard. If he really wanted to throw him a fucking party and have everyone there, he could've done it the week before like we did for Taylor. Ben would've been just as impressed.” Brian just bit his lips and waited. “You had something much more important to you, and to Taylor and Daphne, than pulling Michael's underwear out of his ass crack. So... let my son figure this shit out on his own.”

Brian simply nodded again and said, “Thanks, mom.”

“Would've been Sunshine's twenty-first... so I spent the afternoon with Jennifer.” Brian pretended sudden interest in his computer screen. “She understands, too, ya know. She's in pain, but she understands.”

 

They'd spent the day in question in Boston, visiting museums with Taylor and celebrating with a cake and candles at the hotel restaurant. They'd also spent the day trying to figure out the meaning behind Taylor's latest batch of words. Her speech had progressed slightly ahead of schedule and she was increasing her vocabulary and sentence length daily, it seemed. Usually there was some point of reference for the sometimes unintelligible string of words, however, that let them narrow down a meaning, let them connect Taylor-speech to an actual thing or abstraction. With her latest few words, however, there was seemingly no connection to reality whatsoever.

“My mick.” Taylor sipped her milk and announced her ownership of the drink proudly.

“I'm guessing that would be me,” Brian joked, “but I think we need to work on her lack of political correctness and her use of derogatory epithets.”

“Don't worry, daddy, with you around she'll figure out how to put the 'l' in there soon enough.” Daphne was, as ever, pointing out the obvious. “She's actually ahead of most kids in her age group.”

“My tin wuv gween.” Taylor patted her plate, gave a milky grin and plopped a chunk of broccoli in her mouth.

“My tin loves green? _”_ Brian repeated to Taylor. She nodded her head as she chewed. “Who is tin, Taylor?”

“Tin! My tin!” She tossed her hands out to the side emphatically.

Daphne had already heard about the few odd phrases Taylor had been using lately. Brian was concerned that she was somehow regressing in her speech, reverting to baby babble. “I have no idea either, but I do know you need to stop worrying so much. At the rate her verbal skills are progressing, just give her a few months and the little firefly will be able to discuss at length on the meaning.” She had an idea about the new phrases and Taylor's sometimes odd behavior, a theory that she'd been considering for weeks, but she wasn't ready yet to tell Brian. She wasn't ready to even give it a voice by saying it out loud, actually. Because everyone would think she was insane. So for now, she just smiled and stole a piece of broccoli from her daughter's plate, remembering the number of times Justin had declared his love of the vegetable.

Later that night, with Taylor tucked into her own bed, Brian and Daphne had again talked about Justin. He would have been twenty-one and it had been particularly difficult for both of them to handle the day on his behalf.

Daphne had researched the naming of stars and had ultimately decided that such would be a meaningless gesture. Any gift for Justin had to at least have some purpose behind it. Brian had briefly suggested developing a fund in Justin's memory, something that would help others. They both again decided against that. Governmental red tape and administrative bullshit alone would eventually gut much of the good such a program might offer. What they finally decided was simply to work toward more inclusive discrimination laws and harsher punishments for hate crimes in Pennsylvania.

When Brian had arrived home, it was to that scathing phone message from Michael about missing Ben's birthday, which fell on exactly the same day as Taylor and Justin's. Michael was still angry when Brian met him for lunch the next day. Debbie's visit had eased Brian's anger a bit, but he was still pissed with his friend's attitude when he got home. After settling Taylor with her toys, he listened to the messages on his home phone. There was only one. From Michael. He took a deep breath and pressed 'play'.

 _Brian... hey... It's me. I'm... um... I'm sorry for being such a prick. I know what that day means to you and Taylor, and I'm sorry... Yeah, I'm a dick. I'm pathetic. I was being selfish and wanting to impress Ben and... well, I'm your friend and I should have been better at it. So... just give Taylor a kiss from her Uncle Michael, and I'll see you 'round. Okay? … Okay_.

Brian laughed at Mikey's obvious discomfort. He hated to apologize almost as much as Brian did, but when he did, he did it up with a bow. Yeah, he'd been a prick, but Brian hadn't tried very hard to set the record straight himself. They both screwed up. But they were friends and friends did that sometimes. He tossed himself onto the sofa and fired off a text to his best friend.

_Yeah, you're pathetic. Really, really pathetic. We'll live. Hope Ben had a good b-day. Lunch tomorrow?_

Before he could change his mind he typed out another text.

_Hey. Home decompressing from office. Share pizza with Taylor and dad? Well, with dad. She's having mac n cheese. I'll toss in beer or apple juice. Drinker's choice. 7:30? Let me know._

His finger hovered for a minute before he pressed the send icon, his gut twisting like a high school kid asking out a first date. For some reason that didn't bother him quite as much as he thought it should, and he had a moment of panic that maybe he should just retract it all. Then his phone chimed.

_Great idea. Could use company. Worked ER shift today. Kid beat half to death by dad cuz he's gay. Fucking piece of shit parent. Should be in jail for life. I'll bring beer._

Brian smiled and decided to put his panic back in the box for a while.

 


	6. PART 6

 

This was all completely new to Brian, this... whatever it was he and Teo had begun. It was more than friendship. At least it was nothing like he had with any other friend, even Mikey. There was an undercurrent of real sexual tension, but that still wasn't a step Brian felt comfortable taking with Teo yet.

When he'd met Justin, it had all been about the sexual tension. It was hot, incendiary from the moment they met. Purely physical, at least on Brian's part. It changed over the months they were involved, and a friendship grew. Justin knew Brian in ways no one else had ever known him. But there had been no equality, no equivalence of any power in the relationship. Part of that, Brian knew, was his own inability or unwillingness to allow it. His need for control and emotional distance. His psychological baggage. But a large part of it was simply age and experience.

Brian had a career, college degrees, a home, financial independence. Justin hadn't even had the chance to graduate from high school. The roof over his head was literally there through the mercy of whoever owned it.

Yet, somehow, this kid – this boy – had loved him unconditionally. Had shown him an emotional maturity that belied his youth and inexperience. Had challenged Brian to be more than he was. Had trusted him with his body and his heart. Brian felt incredibly cheated that he'd realized too late how important Justin was to him. How much he loved him.

Now, Teo was here, in the picture, and Brian wasn't quite sure what part he played. If he would play any part at all.

 

“You're fucking kidding me?” Brian chuckled.

“I kid you not.”

Brian had invited Teo to the house to keep him sane while Taylor used up some excess energy outside. Brian would swear that someone plugged his daughter into an outlet during the night to recharge her batteries. The kid never stopped. Finally she'd run and jumped and toddled her way to the sandbox and, at the moment, was happily engaged in filling and emptying a plastic cup.

“Teophanes? Must've been a bitch to learn how to spell that in pre-school.”

“Hey, mom's first choice was Thucydides. You can understand how pleased I am that my father, ever the pragmatic German, convinced her to go with plan B.”

Brian laughed loudly. Even Taylor stopped what she was doing and looked at her father. “My daddy is laughin' loud!”

“Yes, Miss T, your daddy is laughing very loud.” Teo looked at Brian and smiled broadly. “Sounds nice. He should do more of that.”

Taylor held her hands out to her sides in a wide gesture and shrugged her small shoulders. “My Tin laughs all da time!”

“I didn't quite catch that one, Miss T. Who is Tin?”

Taylor shrugged. “My Tin.”

Brian took a moment to get his laugh under control before addressing Teo. “Honestly, I don't know who Tin is, but apparently Tin laughs all the time.”

“Her vocabulary is pretty extensive for a two and a half year old.”

“Given her mother and father's propensity to talk, I'm not surprised,” Brian joked. “You ready to put your cup away and go inside for lunch, big girl?”

“No. I'm playin' with da cup, daddy.”

“I know you're playing with the cup. But why don't you tell me what you would like for lunch today?”

“Ice cream!” Taylor exclaimed.

“Perhaps we should have something before the ice cream. Okay?”

“'K. Gorilla cheeeese an a pickle an a cookie an... an... an a popscicle!”

Teo laughed at the little girl's enthusiastic list of lunch possibilities. “Gorilla cheese?”

“That would be gorilla cheeeese,” Brian corrected, drawing out the second word with Taylor-esque enthusiasm. “And don't forget the pickle.”

 

After lunch, Taylor sat at her small craft table coloring in the Disney Princess book her Uncle Michael had given her last week. Brian had thought it a bit stereotypical, but she liked it, and he supposed that was what mattered.

“I can't believe her hand-eye coordination, Brian. I deal with children all day, every day, and seldom do I see a child her age with the ability to color that precisely in small areas.” Teo had been watching Taylor closely. As a pediatrician he watched children develop and judged Taylor's development on the high end of the scale.

“She's... a bit gifted. No doubt about that.”

“Much like her father.”

Brian smiled ruefully. “You have no idea.”

Brian turned toward the play area when he heard Taylor giggling loudly off and on. She giggled and stopped. Then giggled again. He knew he would find her staring upward or outward... at some empty space. It was the first time Teo would actually see what Brian had been describing over the last year and a half.

“Watch her closely,” he directed.

Just as Brian expected, Taylor was laughing and staring, outwardly looking for all the world like she was listening closely to a beloved speaker or friend, her lips moving as if she were eating something. “She was about eight months old when I first saw her do that. She just laughs...giggles... and stares. Sometimes she holds her hands out or makes gestures, almost like she's playing a game.”

“Does this happen often? On any kind of schedule or in response to any particular stimulus?”

“No schedule and pretty much when she's quiet. Couple of times a month maybe.” Brian couldn't help but notice the shift into professional mode that Teo had made. Shit. “Hey, I kept telling you and Dr. Patterson about this, and you both brushed me off as some kind of neurotic parent... You think there's more than just self-entertainment going on.”

Teo ignored the slight irritation in Brian's voice, and the implied accusation. He feared Brian may just have every right to be upset with him in the very near future. “Does she seem to be in any distress before or after these incidents?”

“She did at first... maybe the first few months. She would cry afterward, like she was heartbroken or terrified. Then it changed and now she just laughs.”

Teo walked slowly toward Taylor and spoke quietly to her. “Taylor? Are you playing a game?” She ignored him and continued to smile and stare. Suddenly she dropped the yellow crayon she had in her hand and picked up a blue one and began coloring a princess dress, looking up at Teo with a wide smile.

“My Tin likes da blue one.”

 _Shit_ , Teo thought. _Shit_.

Brian watched the thoughtful look pass over Teo's face as Taylor's little episode wound down. “Hey, little firefly... You think you can stay here for a minute while I talk with Teo for a bit.”

“'K, daddy. I'll color da princess.”

“You do that for me, and I'll be back here in a few minutes.” He nodded to Teo to follow him to the patio. He'd still be able to see Taylor, but could put the barrier of the glass door between them. Somehow he didn't think he wanted her to hear what Teo was going to say.

“Now,” Brian began. “What the fuck was all that concern back there, Dr. Marten?”

“First of all, Brian, I have to tell you that every single time I've seen Taylor, she's been the epitome of the healthy, happy child. Absolutely no indication that there could possibly be anything wrong, outside of a cold or ear infection.” Teo hoped he could make Brian understand that he had not been deliberately ignoring parental concerns, or the health of a child. “When you described these incidents with Taylor and the giggling, it didn't set off any kind of bells at all, because children have all kinds of odd little behaviors that parents identify as potentially troublesome. They have imaginary friends, they create their own private languages... So there was absolutely no hint that what you were describing was any different.”

“But... and I'm hearing a _big_ fucking but coming here.”

“But... I'd like to make an appointment for Taylor with a colleague of mine. A pediatric neurologist.”

“Because...?”

“It could be absolutely nothing, and I don't want to add an uninformed, knee-jerk diagnosis that I may be completely wrong about just from one anecdotal observation...”

“Jesus fucking _christ_ , Teo! Just tell me why your uninformed, knee-jerk anecdotal observation suddenly makes you want to schedule my daughter with a fucking neurologist!” Brian looked through the glass of the door, watching his little girl blissfully coloring. Her hair flew around her face as she turned and waved at him through the door, that ever present smile on her face. Suddenly it seemed vitally important that he remember this moment. The way the air smelled and how the sun broke through the glass and landed on her right hand. How that little purple stain from a popscicle drip stood out against the pale green of her blouse. How her smile was so fucking much like Sunshine.

Teo closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He put his hand on Brian's arm to draw his attention. “I think she may be having seizures, Brian.”

And yeah, another shift in the world.

 

Dr. Srilatha Patel's office was three blocks from the main campus of Carnegie Mellon. Over the last two weeks, Brian had the opportunity to get to know the area well. Within two days from that fateful conversation with Teo, Taylor had been scheduled for an initial appointment, and a week later she was undergoing EEGs, MRIs, CT scans... She'd been poked and prodded and generally medically harassed to the point that even her interminably sweet demeanor had disappeared. At least on this visit, her presence wasn't required.

Daphne sat facing an obnoxiously gray desk in the obnoxiously bright office of the woman who was about to give them a verdict. She suddenly felt as if she were back in some attorney's office reliving what she had thought, at the time, was the worst day of her life. As she gripped Brian's hand in hers, she wondered if she would be re-evaluating that when this meeting was over.

“Ms. Chanders, Mr. Kinney. I know the last couple of weeks have been very difficult for you both, and especially for Taylor. I thank you for your patience while we fully evaluated all the findings.”

“To the point, Dr. Patel, if you don't mind.” The last thing Brian needed right now was medical small talk.

“Of course.” Dr. Patel opened a folder and removed documents, placing them in front of the two. “As we discussed earlier, Taylor has been experiencing a form of epilepsy known as gelastic seizure. The syndrome itself often manifests initially in infancy or early childhood as episodes of giggling or spontaneous, often inappropriate laughter, in concert with absence seizures, what used to be called petit mal seizures. The absence seizures can generally be controlled with the use of anti-convulsant medications, and we will develop a regimen specifically for Taylor in that regard. Unfortunately, the gelastic seizures themselves, the bursts of laughter, do not respond well to treatment.” She pointed to the documents she earlier placed on the desk. “Our more serious concerns were with the underlying cause of the seizures. This is a rare form of epilepsy, usually resulting from a hypothalamic harmatoma, or a benign disorganization of neurons on the hypothalmus, which could lead to more severe seizures and developmental issues as the child grows. Fortunately, that report before you tells us that your daughter shows no signs of such a tumor, or any other brain lesions. She has the rarest type of gelastic seizure. And like much of epilepsy, it is idiopathic, in that we have no evidence of its cause.”

Daphne sobbed her relief into Brian's shoulder as he held her. His own face was a mask of stoicism. This past month had been terrifying and had brought home the old adage that a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing. Once he'd heard the potential diagnosis, he'd begun to research it, and had spent hours trying to drink away his own tears. He'd spent most nights sleepless in a chair pulled up to Taylor's bed or with her tucked tightly into his own.

It could have been worse. A whole lot of fucking worse.

“What _is_ her outlook with the seizures? Will they increase, get worse?”

“It's possible. Epilepsy is a well researched condition, but there are still so many things about the human brain that we simply aren't able to understand, for instance why we can effectively treat certain types and not others. Since we don't know the specific cause of Taylor's seizures, we are only able to treat symptomatically. It is possible that a course of treatment will work and then stop working, and a new course of treatment will need to be designed for her should that happen. However, if the absence seizures are controlled effectively and you all learn to cope with the gelastic episodes, she should live an otherwise perfectly normal life, with a few modifications and limitations.” Dr. Patel smiled gently then. “If she develops aspirations of being a pilot, I'd probably advise her in another direction. It may be that she will never drive, and safety precautions will need to be taken, in the kitchen and bathroom, especially. All of that will be covered in a program of counseling in which you should all participate.”

Dr. Patel stood, indicating that the meeting was ending. Daphne and Brian stood, as well, hugging each other in relief, knowing their child had new limitations in her world, but not insurmountable ones.

“Thank you, Dr. Patel. This has been a very difficult time for us, and I can't tell you how relieved I am right now.”

“You're welcome, Ms. Chanders. Right now, I'm pretty relieved myself. Taylor is a very lucky little girl. This could have gone very badly, and I'm thrilled to not be giving you a worse news... Remember that you will need to make an appointment for Taylor, for tomorrow possibly, so that we can get her medication regimen started. There will also be information on scheduling the counseling when you check out at the front desk.”

 

Brian was leaning casually against the dark gray BMW, smoking a rare cigarette, when Teo saw him. He debated for a moment as to slowing his steps or quickening them across the clinic parking lot, and decided to do neither. Today, as he knew, was the day of the final diagnosis and he'd been on edge all day. The disorder Srilatha suspected was a rare one and Teo himself had done a little medical research. That hadn't given him much good news. He tried to read Brian's body language, to get a feel for what she might have said. But Brian gave little away at the best of times.

As he drew nearer to his car, he tried to prepare an opener, but was saved the effort when Brian tossed down the cigarette and stated, “She doesn't have any brain lesions, hypothalamic or otherwise.”

Teo stopped where he was and tossed his head back, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. “Thank god.”

He'd learned long ago that getting emotional over patients was dangerous for a physician's mental health and, sometimes, for a patient's physical well-being. But this was different. This was Brian's child, no longer a patient, really, and he couldn't separate himself from her emotionally. He found himself tearing up and wasn't in the least ashamed of doing so. _Thank you_.

“How's Taylor now?”

“She's with her mother at the house. It's been a... long day for all of us, but she needed to be alone with her for a while.”

“Yeah... yeah, I can see why she'd need that.” Teo dropped his briefcase in the car and rubbed his hands over his face. “I'm glad, Brian. You'll never know how glad... So, just the epilepsy?”

“They think it's manageable, hopefully shouldn't disrupt her life too much.” Brian met Teo's eyes. He hadn't talked to Teo since that afternoon on the patio. At first he was angry with him. For dismissing his concerns as the ramblings of an untried parent. For letting it go so long before he noticed anything. Just for saying it at all, really. For making him afraid for his daughter. But it wasn't Teo's or Dr. Patterson's fault, Dr. Patel had assured him of that. The disorder was so rare that some neurologists would never see it, much less a random pediatrician. Teo wasn't to blame. If it hadn't been for him, who knows when Taylor would have been diagnosed, and christ knows what might have happened if she'd had a more serious seizure while alone.

Brian shifted from one foot to the other. Apologies weren't his strong suit. “Uh...,” he began, “...I may be breaking all kinds of rules here, written and unwritten...” He watched a small smile break on Teo's face at the remembered invitation. “But I wondered if you'd like to grab a cup of coffee with me.” He pulled in his lips and tilted his head a bit coyly.

Teo nodded, small smile still in place. “Yeah, I think I'd like that a lot, actually.”

“You know,” Brian said, eyes dark and burning into Teo's, “I've never seen your place.”

 

Two weeks later, Brian, Daphne and Taylor were back relaxing on the beach in Clearwater. They had all liked the feel of it last year, even with the memories the date carried. After a day filled with, for Taylor and Daphne, an outstanding trip to the zoo in Tampa, and for Brian, a horrendous trip to the zoo in Tampa, they were watching the sun paint the sky as it sank into the waters over the Gulf. Taylor had spent the last hour laughing as the tide pulled the sand from beneath her toes at the water's edge, and filling a plastic bucket with ocean treasures.

As the last of the sun hissed onto the horizon, Daphne held Brian's hand as Taylor released her white balloon. “Da sky is all pink for you, Tin!” she said, as she watched the tiny white speck disappear.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gelastic seizure, or 'laughing seizure', is a rare form of epilepsy almost always beginning in infancy, but usually undiagnosed until the child is older due to the odd nature of the seizures. It is also quite often accompanied with absence, or petit mal, seizures and partial seizures, which involve rhythmic or jerking limb or head movement. I've simplified it for the purposes of the story, but tried to be as medically correct as possible.


	7. PART 7

 

In typical Brian fashion he went overboard. The information he'd been given through the counselor struck home and he acted immediately to mitigate any future problems. He knew the potential for Taylor suddenly showing signs of whole body seizure activity was low, but he wasn't one to take the risk.

He hired a contractor to make some adjustments in their home. The hardwood and tile that Brian had loved so much was replaced with plush carpet throughout the house. The doors were all rehung to open outwardly rather than opening into each room, in the event Taylor had a seizure against a closed door. He had plastic matting placed in the tub and shower areas, replaced the sleek dining room seating with armed chairs, and had stronger gates installed at the top of the stairway. He had the contractor check that the glass on the patio doors was well tempered. Right now, he decided the kitchen could escape remodel, since it would be a few years before he had to worry about Taylor spending much time in that part of the house alone.

When it was all done, Brian considered it money well spent. At least as far as his peace of mind was concerned. He wasn't a fool. He knew the majority of the changes were for him, not for Taylor. They were to make him feel like he was _doing_ something, rather than simply waiting for something to happen.

The most important change, however, from Taylor's perspective was in the area of care taking. He'd told Jennifer about the seizures, of course, and he'd made sure the day care was well equipped with personnel who were knowledgeable. One of the owners was a retired nurse, which made Brian feel more confident and was one of the factors is choosing that day care in the first place. The rest of the family, however, Brian didn't include in the loop. He had known them too long to even pretend they wouldn't treat Taylor differently. She didn't need to be babied, and he didn't want her treated as some damaged doll. They cared about her, but sometimes they could care just a little too much. So the few times that Debbie had been called on to watch Taylor were now over. Same with Michael. If they got pissed off at him, too fucking bad. Taylor had to come first.

Yeah, he knew he was being a bit of a prick about it, so what else was new?

Teo had been a godsend, and Brian knew he had a lot to thank the man for, not the least of which was his medical expertise. He kept a close eye on Taylor and her reactions to the medications, letting Brian know what was most likely temporary and what might be worth changing the meds for. Teo was the first to notice the small rash Taylor had developed on her ankles, a potentially serious issue with her first batch of pills. Yeah, he had a lot to be thankful for when it came to Teo Marten.

Brian sat on the patio watching his daughter chase Stacey, one of the neighbor's children, around the back yard. The girl was a couple of years older than Taylor, but she was small for her age and the girls got along well. Caroline had begged Brian to watch Stacey for a couple of hours, frantic about an impromptu client meeting her supervisor had scheduled at the eleventh hour on a Saturday morning. It was one of those moments Brian would have made fun of years before, but which he now knew, from experience, every working parent dreads. Just as the girls collapsed into a squealing heap on the grass, he heard a shuffling behind him and automatically reached out his hand for the hot cup of coffee he knew would be there.

“And _that's_ why I chose pediatrics. Hoping to absorb just a portion of that childhood energy and enthusiasm by repeated close proximity.”

“Ah, and here I thought it had something to do with an altruistic need to insure the continued good health for the future of humanity.”

“Nope. All about trying to stay young,” Teo replied with an exaggerated sincerity.

“Well, you are getting up there, old man,” Brian quipped, noting to himself that the coffee somehow tasted particularly good when Teo made it. He'd have to find out the secret.

“Fuck you, Brian.”

Brian smirked and tapped his bare foot against Teo's shoe. “Ah, but that's not what you were begging me for the other night, now, is it?”

Teo took a long sip of his coffee, finally replying with a full-on dimpled grin. “Oh, believe me, that was definitely one of the things I was begging for, Brian. It just seemed...,” his grin widened, “...prudent on my part, at that particular moment, to play to your perceived strengths.”

Brian sputtered. “ _Perceived_ strengths, asshole?”

“You'll never really know where your true talent resides,” Teo chortled, “until you fully explore _all_ your options, young man.”

Another squeal and a flurry of little girls rushing by them saved Teo from the fitting response Brian was formulating.

They'd been together several times now and the connection was always... intense. Brian had been amazed at Teo's stamina and creativity, somehow having convinced himself that the couple of extra years would have some negative effect on his performance. He'd been happily surprised when he discovered the other man's drive and recovery time were comparable to his own. He hadn't found that since... Well, it had been a few years.

 

Justin and Teo were as different on the surface as daylight and dark, and Brian had smiled to himself as he made that particular observation. Justin had been all light and freshness, even in his physical presentation. He fairly vibrated with the sunshine that had given him is nickname. Blond, blue-eyed, alabaster youth. Teo, on the other hand, exuded an earthiness that contrasted completely with Justin's ethereal quality. His mother's Greek heritage showed in every physical aspect of the man. Dark hair and brown eyes, swarthy complexion and a hardened strength to his body that evoked images of fishing villages and coliseums.

Beneath the surface, however, Brian found more similarity than difference. They were both gentle with their words yet fiercely proud in their beliefs. They were both intelligent and funny, contemplative and spontaneous. And, yeah, they were both that exciting mix of dominance and submission in bed. He had the fleetingly painful thought that, if Justin could have hand-picked someone to satisfy Brian in nearly every way, he would have chosen Teo Marten.

“Misser T, we need a cookie.”

Taylor's lilting voice interrupted Brian's reflections, and he couldn't help laughing at his daughter's nickname for Teo. _Mister T_. It brought out all sorts of laughable images in Brian's head, and had been the source of much angst on Teo's part, who'd begun to rue the day he'd started calling Taylor Miss T.

“Didn't I already say no more cookies, Taylor?”

“Daddy.” Taylor had propped her hand on one hip. “I'm talkin' to Misser T.”

Teo stifled a snort and looked at Brian innocently. “Well, she's got you there, dad.”

 

It was always a bit bittersweet to think about Gus' getting older, and now he was four. Four years since Brian had first spied an eager young innocent on the streets of Liberty Avenue. Brian often considered just how connected birthdays in his little family were to Justin. He and Justin had met on the day Gus was born, Justin and Taylor shared a birthday, and Brian's own birthday was only one day away from the date of Justin's death. No one would ever convince Brian that it was all coincidence. Lightening just doesn't strike that many times in the same spot without some kind of conductor.

He watched his son happily consuming the remains of some purple cake Lindsay had made, watched as his daughter dragged her finger deliberately through the icing and them popped it into her mouth, watched as his two children simply enjoyed a treat together. He wished Lindsay and Melanie could see the relationship the kids had developed as easily as he could. But they couldn't. Or wouldn't. He doubted that their love and caring for Justin would ever be carried over to his child – because Brian had dared to raise her.

“We don't see much of you these days.” Lindsay sat down on the stoop beside Brian, her arms wrapping around her knees, her eyes taking in the sparkle in his own as he watched his son and Taylor play together.

She missed Brian, missed the closeness they'd shared for so many years. They'd been each other's stalwart defenders and reciprocal consciences since college – two lonely kids providing each other with an emotional equilibrium they hadn't found in their respectively damaging childhoods. They were Peter and Wendy, forever bound to each other somewhere between real life and fantasy, and Gus had been the final evidence of that bond.

But Taylor had changed all that and Lindsay wasn't sure Peter existed anymore – and if Peter grew up, where did that leave Wendy? Where did that leave her? That uncertainty made her angry.

“Yeah, it's been a busy time with Kinnetik and Taylor.”

“That doesn't mean you can neglect your son, Peter.” Her voice was more gentle than her words, the name one last reminder to Brian of who she knew they should be.

“ _My_ son.” Brian laughed skeptically. “You do know, Linds, that your waspish entitlement guilt trip doesn't work on selfish Irish bastards, right?”

 _No_ , Lindsay thought, _this isn't Peter anymore_.

“You know what I mean, Brian. You haven't spent any time with your son for weeks.”

“Again, with the _my_ son. Let me see – exactly what was it you called Gus when I asked if he could spend the night with Taylor last week?” Brian looked thoughtful for a moment. “Oh, that's right. _Your_ son. When I asked for a night with _my_ son, you were pretty fucking quick on the trigger to reminded me that he was _your_ son” Lindsay winced a bit at Brian's own anger. “Does any of that ring a bell?”

“Peter...”

Brian eyed her sadly and shook his head. “Jesus, Linds, life isn't some fairy tale anymore!”

She sat for a long few minutes wondering how this had happened. How had this connection between them had frayed so badly? It wasn't a fairy tale for her, it was who they were _supposed_ to be to each other, who they'd always been, and it reinforced her anger that Brian had forgotten that.

“ _You're_ the one who gave up your parental rights, Brian. Don't try to blame me for your remorse.”

“You're right that I am remorseful about that. One of the two real regrets I have.” He pointed toward Gus and Taylor. “You see those two? See how they get along and what they're doing right now? They're eating cake, Linds. Eating it and fully enjoying it, not trying to break some immutable law of physics by trying to enjoy it now _and_ save it for later, too. Even _they_ aren't living in a fantasy. You could learn a lot from their example.”

Brian stood up, ready to call this little encounter to an end. It hurt on a visceral level that his friend and the mother of his son refused to acknowledge his daughter, that she kept trying to use Gus as some pawn in her little games. That she refused to see he'd changed, had grown beyond Neverland. But there was nothing he could do to change her. That she had to do on her own. “Gus may be biologically mine, but he's not my son in the way that Taylor's my daughter... because you won't allow him to be. I _do_ love him, and I'll never fail to support him. But, I won't allow you to blame me for your selfishness and hurt little housewife mentality. You're not happy with the way your little life plan worked out? It's time to grow up, Lindsay, the way the rest of us have had to do.”

 

It was Thanksgiving at Debbie's when it all played out.

Brian and Teo had started seeing each other casually almost a year ago and had been fucking, for lack of a better way to put it, for several months. But it had been a private thing between them, for the most part. Now Brian had brought him into the family, to a Novotny Thanksgiving dinner, which spoke volumes to everyone there about the relationship between the two men. There was a bit of awkwardness about it all.

“So, Teo, how long have you and Brian known each other?” And so Debbie began the inquisition.

“We actually met in my clinic a couple of years ago when Miss T came in with an ear infection. I'm a pediatrician.”

“That's a rather unethical practice, isn't it? Dating the parent of one of your patients?” Lindsay's tone was cool.

“Yes, actually, that would have been breaking several rules, both written and unwritten.” Teo didn't miss the smirk on Brian's face, and smiled a bit himself. “However, I was only in charge of Taylor's care for a few months while her primary was on a personal leave of absence. Dr. Patterson resumed Taylor's care before Brian and I even shared a cup of coffee.” There was a bit of a tactful silence on the fact that Teo asking Brian for that cup of coffee was the very _reason_ Taylor was again under the care of Dr. Patterson.

Michael watched his friends and family sizing Teo up, noting Lindsay's obvious issues, and decided enough was enough. Michael had never been one of Justin's friends, had never really liked the kid for more reasons than he cared to think about. He'd been jealous and petty and possessive, and fucking cruel to him at times. It wasn't a part of his past Michael was particularly fond of remembering. But there wasn't a day that went by now that he wasn't thankful that the twink had insinuated himself into his friend's life. Justin had made Brian grow up, and in the process he'd made Michael grow up, as well.

But Justin had been gone for years. It wasn't some fucking betrayal for Brian to move on and Michael was determined that his friends weren't made out to be some kind of bad guys here.

“And that first cup of coffee was shared at our house last Christmas. Teo and Ben knew each other from the university and I invited them both over one night.”

Ben nodded his agreement. “They were rather surprised to see each other there, as I recall.”

“Last year? You've been seeing each other for a year?” Debbie sat a plate of rolls on the table and put her hands on her hips, her gaze traveling between the two men. “Again with the not sharing things with your family. That's becoming a bad habit of yours, Brian Kinney. And you!” She pointed to Michael.

“Daddy, I want to get down.”

“Brian's life is his own, ma. He doesn't owe any of us any...”

“I can't believe you, Brian. A year? And you didn't think it was important to tell us about this?”

“Jesus, Linds, forgive me if I missed reading the full disclosure addendum to our friendship agreement.”

“Daddy!”

Brian felt Taylor stiffen and shift in his lap and let her down. “Go play with Gus for a bit, okay?”

As he watched his daughter and son playing, he remembered why he'd kept so much of his life out of the family's purview for the last several years. Individually they were manageable, but as a collective unit they could be a fucking soul-sucking beast at times.

“Okay, now that the kids are out of the line of fire, let's finish this once and for all, shall we?” Brian reached over and deliberately held hands with Teo. “Teo is in my life. Will it last? Who the fuck knows. And that's as much as any of you need to hear.” He leaned in and kissed Teo deeply, both of them smiling softly afterward. “Now, we're done with that subject. On to the next.”

But Brian had forgotten the single-mindedness that came as part of this group of friends. He'd somewhat insulated himself from it over the past few years.

“We're your family, Brian.” Debbie had calmed herself considerably. “We just want to be part of your life.”

“You _are_ part of my life. It's the reason that the three of us are here, for chrissake. That doesn't mean I have to give you a schedule of my activities or a list of my intentions.”

“But...”

“But _nothing_ ,” Brian responded. “Fine. Let's do this... What's the real reason you wear that wig, Deb?”

“What!?” Debbie's hands went to her head and Vic laughed lightly. _This oughta to be good_ , he thought.

“How much do you still owe on you mortgage? Your income for the year is...? Or how about this... When's the last time _you_ got laid?” Brian's face was innocently curious as he leaned in toward Debbie a little more with each question.

“Who the hell do you think you are to ask me that shit?”

“Oh, I'm sorry. Are those things you want to keep to yourself unless, and until, _you_ want to share them? But I thought we were family!” He cocked his head to the side and made his eyes wide.

Vic chuckled and Michael jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. “Don't make it worse that it is, Uncle Vic.” But Michael had to chuckle himself. Just a little.

Debbie stood, stunned, for a moment or two. Then her face screwed up wryly and she let out a long sigh. “Not the same thing, but point fucking taken.”

Brian leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Always have, always will,” he said as she tapped him lightly on the cheek with a responding, “Asshole.”

“I still think you should have told us, Brian.” Lindsay wasn't ready to let it go. “If someone is around Gus, we need to know who that person is.”

“Since Gus is seldom allowed to be with me, unattended by his mothers, that's really a moot point, isn't it? But, let's play it your way. I'll expect _your_ list of persons who are around my son when in your care by tomorrow... names, addresses...” Brian wasn't smiling this time. Another of Lindsay's games was just not high on his agenda today.

“That's not the same thing at all, Brian, and you know it.”

“No, no, it isn't. Because in your case, Linds, this isn't about Teo, or family, or full disclosure of who is or isn't around Gus.” He looked over at the two children playing happily on the other side of the room. “This is about my daughter... and my son... and... cake.” He barked out a sad laugh as Lindsay's brows drew together. “And until you figure that out, there's really not a hell of a lot I can do that would be right, is there?”

Michael looked around at the room and the circus of people that were sharing it, and knew that, for the most part, they were okay. He grabbed Vic with one hand and Ben with the other, guiding them toward the table. “Well, don't know about everyone else, but I'm starved.”

Teo drew Brian into a tight hug. “They may be crazy, but I think they love you, Brian,” he whispered. “Mostly.”

Brian chuckled. “Mostly.”

The dinner was, as always, a feast and by the end of it Taylor was happy to head home.

Teo pulled her jacket on and headed toward the car. Brian hung back a little to invite Michael and Ben over for a beer. As he walked toward the foyer Brian looked up and saw the sketches Debbie had so carefully framed and placed on the wall of the stairway.

Debbie laughing in the diner, her head tossed back joyously.

A bowl of apples sitting on the counter in the loft, a ray of sun highlighting a single bite taken out of one.

Vic reading the morning paper, dishtowel across his shoulders, pill bottles lined up beside his breakfast plate.

Brian gently nibbling on the fingers of his infant son, awe apparent in his eyes.

So much of their lives captured on that wall, each stroke of the pencil conveying both an innocence and an ancient knowledge. The importance of the moment. _This_ is what's important. _This_ is what life is about. _This_ moment. Brian was almost overwhelmed with the message they conveyed. “Took me a while to start getting it right, Sunshine. Wish you were here to see it.”

“Somehow I think he knows.” Michael clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Now, I think you said something about a beer?”

Later that night, after Taylor was in bed and the drama of the day had time to settle, Michael curled into his boyfriend's side, observing his friends curled into each other on the other end of the long sofa. They'd all had a little too much to drink and Ben didn't want to drive home just yet.

It had been a day of revelation for Michael. Oh, he'd known that Brian and Teo had been seeing each other, but even he didn't know the level of connection the two had developed. Brian kept things to himself these days. Had since Justin's death. He wondered how far Brian and Justin might have taken _their_ relationship if Brian had been this mature at the time. But that was kind of like wondering what toast would have tasted like before fire was discovered, wasn't it? It wouldn't have been possible. As painful as Justin's death had been for Brian, it was the catalyst for breaking down the final walls Brian had built around himself. Justin had started the process by just loving Brian, but it was losing Justin and raising Justin's daughter that had finished the job.

They'd all sat and talked for a long time that night, about Justin, about Brian's past, and Michael was sure Teo had heard a few things he'd never heard before. There were a couple of tense moments for Brian, Michael could tell. Especially when it came to admitting out loud, in front of his friends, just how much Justin had meant to him. How much he still hurt for him every single day. But Teo had just held him, back to chest, and told him it was okay to still be in love with him. That feeling love for one person doesn't have to end in order to be able to feel it for another. That each person you fell in love with held a different place in your life, filled that role in a different way.

As Michael settled back into the Ben's arms, he knew very well how true Teo's words were. And he smiled to himself when he realized that Brian might just have found his own Ben.

 

 


	8. PART 8

 

It was a bit of a lonely Christmas for Brian. Taylor was spending the holiday with Daphne at the Chanders'. It was the first time in three years he didn't have a child with him on Christmas Day, and the first time he'd _ever_ allowed his home to be decorated for the season. Now, all those decorations he'd given in to putting up around the house seemed to simply mock him.

He was worried about his firefly, although he knew Daphne was more than capable of taking care of her. It was that it wasn't _him_ doing it that gave him worries. And it bothered him that there would be no little girl jumping on him to get up way to fucking early because Santa came. So he continued to linger in bed longing for that damned domesticity of his life.

“I'm pathetic,” he said, and Teo laughed.

Fucking laughed at him, in all his patheticness.

“First thing Christmas morning and that's what you come up with? 'I'm pathetic'?” Teo pressed his lips to Brian's, making little fish lip motions, with a little added tongue, until he felt Brian begin to smirk.

“Not a 'Merry Christmas'?” Teo rolled over and kissed Brian's chest, running his tongue slowly from left to right, nipple to nipple.

“Not that you have a very horny, and might I add, incredibly sexy, man willing to do your bidding laying next to you?” Teo began kissing his way down Brian's stomach, slowly teasing him. Slowly finding his goal. The second most talented mouth Brian had ever felt around his cock.

“Jesus, Teo...”

“Still feeling pathetic?”

Brian huffed out a little laugh. “Uh, not so much... But I'd feel even better if you'd just...ugh... shut up and blow me, Santa.”

“Blow, blow, blow.”

Pathetic took a back seat to Merry Christmas right about then.

 

By the time Taylor Chanders Kinney turned three, her verbal skills and hand-eye coordination were on par with most five year-olds, according to her doctors. To Brian, she was simply a genius child, but Daphne freaked out from time to time about it all. Although she talked to her daughter on the phone several times a week, and had just spent time with her over the holiday, Taylor's skills were so quickly advancing that the changes were more than obvious to someone who wasn't with her on a daily basis.

“She had to be exposed to some alien enzyme or high levels of nuclear energy or something.”

Brian cocked an eyebrow and gave a 'what the fuck?' face. “And you are representative of our nation's brightest and best. I fear for the future.”

“Oh, come on, Brian! It just isn't normal for a child her age to be so...”

“Adanced? Intelligent? Smart?”

“Yeah! She's just too smart.”

“Daphne, your IQ is off the fucking charts and Justin's was nearly as high. Add to that the fact that Taylor _is_ being raised primarily by yours truly, and your conspiracy theories about alien abductions should be put to rest.”

Secretly Brian _was_ a bit daunted by their child's intellect and level of development. She was undoubtedly ready for more advanced mental stimulation than he alone could provide, but of course no school would accept a three year old. He was quietly looking into some kind of private tutoring.

“What worries _me_ more is that she's so damned easy to raise,” he said. “I hear Lindsay and every other parent complaining about the difficulties of raising kids, particularly two and three year-olds, and I wonder when the ax will fall. It's the waiting for some childhood rebellion that's scaring the shit out of me.”

He walked over and ruffled his daughter's hair on his way to the bathroom. Taylor just grinned and continued coloring in the book she'd picked up from the children's museum yesterday. Advanced as she was, she _was_ still three and loved coloring the cartoons. And today was her birthday! She'd been excited this year because she had an idea that it was supposed to be a fun day. Her Tin had told her, that even if they didn't go anywhere special this year, she would get a surprise. She was still waiting for that part.

“Mommy? Do I get a surprise today?”

Daphne laughed at the precociousness of her little girl. “And just why do you think you get a surprise today?”

“'Cause it's my birthday and Tin said so.”

The comment was so off-handed and unexpected that Daphne was taken a little by surprise. She was pretty sure, by his lack of comment, that Brian hadn't heard Taylor's words. It was the first time in a few months that Taylor had mentioned Tin to her, but the name hadn't been far from her mind during that time. It was crazy, yes, and she was certain that everyone would declare her insane, but she had grown fairly certain of who her daughter was talking about.

“Sweetie, can you do mommy a favor? Can you tell me about Tin?”

“Will I still get my surprise?” Taylor's little forehead had crinkled up with worry. She wasn't supposed to talk about Tin so much.

“I promise.”

Taylor thought quietly for a few moments, nodding her head as if in agreement with something, and told her mother about her friend.

“Tin is my best friend. He says I'm the only one who sees him.” She smiled and climbed on her mother's lap. “He's so pretty, mommy, like the prince in my book! And he talks to me when I get the giggles 'cause I get scared and you don't know I get scared.”

Daphne had closed her eyes, seeing 'Tin' dancing and smiling, thinking about him keeping their daughter safe when she didn't even know there was a problem. Tears welled and she sniffed out a little laugh as Taylor patted her arm. “I'm okay, sweetie. Tell me more about your Tin.”

Brian stood in the doorway. He hadn't meant to overhear, but he did and his whole body was reeling with Taylor's every word. _Tin helps me with my colors 'cause he an ardist. Tin helps me with words 'cause he's really smart. Tin loves it at the beach when the sky is pink. Tin has hair like grandma and eyes like my blue princess dress and likes pizza and broccoli a_ lot _. Tin is happy that daddy has so many pictures of him._

He leaned into the door jamb, needing something to hold him up. His eyes were wide and bright and his jaw was tight. He pointed to a picture on the credenza behind the sofa. “Taylor...” His voice was raspy and broken and he had to clear his throat. “Taylor,” he repeated, “can you tell me who these people are?”

Taylor nodded and chirped, “That's you, daddy, and mommy and silly Tin!”

It was a photo Emmett had taken of Daphne, Brian and Justin dancing with abandon late one afternoon in the loft. The guys had stopped over and they'd all had a bit too much weed and beer when Daphne had stopped by.

 _Jesus_...

“I told you,” Daphne sobbed quietly to Brian, “that when she could, she'd tell us all about Tin.”

Brian had no idea what to say to that. No idea whatsoever.

 

Taylor got her surprise. At precisely 3:00 that afternoon she stood next to her daddy at the front door as a delivery man presented her with a wiggly and cumbersome boxer puppy, which she promptly dubbed Cookie. The happy squeals and delighted whimpers of the two sounded throughout the house. It wasn't a gift Brian had ever thought he would give anyone, but, then again, Taylor wasn't just anyone, was she?

As he stood that night looking out at the stars, the tears that had been just below the surface most of the day trickled down his face.

“You really are a twat, you know that?” he asked of the brightest star he could find. He'd been off-kilter since hearing Taylor talk about Tin earlier in the day. Justin had found a way to know his daughter and that both elated Brian and broke his heart just a little more. “Jesus, Justin, what do I say to all this? Thank you for watching our girl? I promise I'll do my best down here?” Brian turned and laughed softly when he heard Cookie noisily lapping water from his bowl. “ _Now_ I know where that irresistible urge to get a dog came from,” he said as he turned back toward the night sky. “Happy birthday, Sunshine. Miss you.”

 

Cookie crouched in the middle of the family room, his head twisting from side to side, his oversized paws splayed out before him, watching. Simply watching. He groaned and sat straight up as Taylor clapped her hands.

Brian had been watching the display for a full five minutes as the big, red puppy performed the same routine over and over. Taylor and the dog had formed an instant bond, as Brian knew they would. His daughter's seeming ability to communicate with the animal was a bit of a surprise, however. He knew, intellectually, that they were not communicating on any psychic level, but the way they read each other's body language, small signals and tells, it was pretty damned close. Although, with the discovery about Tin, Brian was a little less skeptical these days about psychic anything.

At forty pounds, the six month old Cookie far outweighed the petite Taylor. But the breeder and all the research had been right – boxers were great with kids. And this particular boxer was great with this particular kid. It was a good match. There was no question as to who the boss was in the house was these day, either. The damned dog obeyed the little firefly to the letter, even though it wouldn't listen to a single thing Brian said. Brian groaned as he watched his daughter commanding the boxer, realizing just who the _real_ alpha in the family actually was.

It had been a strange three months since Taylor and Justin's birthday. Since the revelation that Justin had, in fact, been a very large part of his daughter's life from birth. Taylor's now open talk about Tin left no doubt that it _was_ Justin.

“Why do you call him Tin?” Brian had asked his daughter that question a week or two after her birthday.

“That's his name, daddy,” she'd answered with a shrug. “Just Tin.”

Brian had actually laughed. Jus-tin. The little fucker. He could almost hear Justin snorting in the background somewhere, snickering like he'd gotten away with some big prank. _I'm on to you_. And yeah, he really had been.

Teo had appeared to be a lot more skeptical, questioning if this wasn't some kind of weird manifestation of Taylor's epilepsy. But honestly, it had affected his relationship with Brian. For the first time in his life, Teo had performance issues in the bedroom. As much as he claimed that he was skeptical about the identity of Tin, there was always the nagging wonder if Justin was there in their intimate moments. He would see a photo on the wall or a framed sketch on the dresser and any hope for an erection was gone. That he really didn't know how to discuss his fears with Brian stressed their relationship even further.

“Not 'in the mood' again?” Brian voiced his frustration. “Do we need to see a specialist about something, Teo? 'Cause, I have to tell you, this is beginning to be a problem here.”

Their relationship wasn't based on sex, as much as Brian would be loathe to admit that publicly, but of course sex was a fundamental part of it. He'd grown to love Teo. A lot. He respected him and liked him. But going weeks without fucking him, with him right there, all swarthy hard bodied and fucking sexy as hell, was more frustration than Brian had dealt with in a very long time. Once he'd lowered his resistance to being with Teo, the man had never failed to get him hard just by being in his presence. Now, being together was torture because Brian knew it was going to end with him, his own hand and a lonely shower. Fuck.

It was this very kind of shit that made him sometimes rue the day he'd developed whatever fucking conscience he'd developed. Sure, he could go out and fuck a dozen men and not feel guilty about 'cheating' on Teo. Monogamy wasn't necessarily part of the deal between them. No, the problem was that he could go out and fuck a dozen men and then feel guilty about cheating on _himself_. Christ, what a fucked up mess someone's life became when they recalibrated that fucking moral compass.

Now, they went days without seeing each other, without talking or visiting, and Taylor was beginning to feel the impact of their problems. She missed her Misser T. She'd come to see him as a vital part of their family over the past several months, the past year. She was less happy. Not sad, exactly, but just less happy.

Taylor was in one of those moods when Teo next visited. He'd missed Brian and Taylor and, armed with pizza, decided to stop in unannounced. Brian had just stepped out of the shower and was still damp, dressed in only jeans, top button undone. Neither one could hide the loneliness and need on their face.

“Misser T! I missed you!” Taylor grabbed Teo around the knees, nearly toppling the pizza to the floor.

“Careful, kiddo,” Brian cautioned. “Looks like Teo brought dinner.” He cupped the back of Teo's neck, bringing their foreheads together. “She's not the only one who missed you, Dr. Marten.”

Teo placed the pizza on the counter and turned and kissed Brian. “Me, too.”

“Don't stay away again, Misser T. It makes my daddy sad.”

He leaned down and picked up the excited little girl, hugging her closely. “Makes me sad, too, Miss T. I'll try not to do that again, okay?”

“'K,” Taylor said with a kiss. “Can I have pizza now?”

Brian observed the two of them and realized that, whatever messed up shit happened, he wanted them both here, in his home. They'd have to find some way to work this out.

 

“I'm intimidated by him, Brian.” Brian and Teo watched from the patio as Taylor and her friend, Stacey, ran around the yard, Cookie right at their heels.

“Because I still love him? I can't help that, Teo. It's probably always going to be that way.”

“No. Really, no.” Teo understood that, especially under the circumstances surrounding Justin's death. “I feel like I'm intruding, I think. With Taylor's connection to him...”

“Thought you didn't buy into that much.”

Teo laughed. “Yeah, didn't think I did, either. But, I guess I do... and I feel like I'm stealing the family _he_ should've had, Brian.” He nodded his head toward Taylor. “His daughter _and_ his lover.” Teo threaded his fingers through Brian's. “You remember that kid I treated on one of my ER rounds? The one who was beaten by his dad when he found out he was gay?”

Brian nodded. He did remember that. Teo's compassion for the kid was one of the things that made him think about a relationship with the man.

“I've thought about him a lot the last couple of days. He's about the same age as Justin was... His whole life ahead of him... Maybe a family some day. I think it helped me figure out that I don't want to be some imposter taking Justin's place and trying to live his life...” He felt Brian's fingers tighten on his. “I feel like I'm taking even more away from him than he's already lost, you know?”

They sat quietly for several minutes. Teo was a good man, Brian knew, but until this moment he really had no idea just _how_ compassionate the man was. Justin was still, and probably always would be, the best man Brian had ever known. God knows he hung on through all the shit Brian piled on him. What they'd had between them had been the stuff of romance novels, passionate and combustible. What he felt for Teo, what they had between them, was different. A simmering pot compared to a roiling boil. His moment with Justin had been that – a moment. Could it have been more? Maybe. Hopefully. But... the choice had been taken from them. This choice... some kind of future with Teo... it was still open.

And if Brian knew anything about Justin at all, anything about his heart and his immense ability to love and forgive, he knew that Justin would not want Hobbs to win again. To win by killing off yet another chance.

“One night I sat up all night, agonizing about whether or not I should let my son go. Whether or not I should hang on to my rights as his father, knowing that in all likelihood, I'd be a shitty one – and at the time I would have been, no question about that. Or should I let Mel adopt him, be his other parent.” Brian lost himself for a moment in that memory, a pensive little smile on his lips. “Justin sat with me most of that night, just holding me, kissing me.” His smile widened. “Killing me with kindness, he said... But he reminded me to keep thinking about what was best for Gus, that Gus, not me, was the one who was important in my decision. My issues with Lindsay and Melanie aside, Justin helped me realize that, given the option, two parents who love each other would be best for Gus.” He leaned over and cupped Teo's face, kissing him softly. “Do you think for a minute that the _boy_ who helped me understand that would be the kind of _man_ to say his daughter should have less?”

Teo pulled Brian to him, kissed him with everything he had. How had he been so fucking lucky as to meet this man? To fall into this crazy world Brian lived in? “I love you, Brian Kinney... And I really, really want to spend the night with you tonight.”

Brian huffed out a small laugh. “Thank god, because after saying all that, I really, _really_ need to fuck the shit out of you tonight.”

“And this is the softer, gentler Brian Kinney? How the hell did Justin put up with the original?”

Brian shook his head a little sadly. “I honestly have no idea. Just glad he did.”

 

 


	9. PART 9, FINAL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter and epilogue.

 

Brian squinted at the sun bouncing off the water as waves lapped at the beach. Back and forth, stealing away one grain at a time, introducing a new one in its place. A quiet breeze ruffled through dark saffron hair, brushed against sun mocha skin as Taylor scooped and crafted a structure near her mother's feet.

“What are you making?”

“A cassel,” she said.

“Ah, looks like we have an architect in the family.” At Taylor's quizzical look, she explained. “Someone who designs buildings.”

Taylor shook her curls. “No. I'm gonna be an ardist. Like my Tin.”

Brian kissed the top of her curly head and, with a giggle and a gleaming smile, the child went back to her endless task. He closed his eyes and bit down on his lips, raised his face to the sun and thought of Taylor's Tin. Arms slipped around his waist from behind and Daphne rested her head between his shoulders.

“He never really died, did he,” a soft voice questioned.

Brian tucked his fingers tightly between Daphne's and gave a squeeze. She might take that as confirmation of her words, but that was okay. He knew they were only symbolic anyway. Because he did die. _He died_. Whether they were vacationing on a Florida beach or shocked into numbness in a Pittsburgh hospital hallway, the truth was still the truth. He _had_ died. Not even five years could change that fact.

Brian knew it would never completely stop hurting, even with Teo in his life. There would always be that longing for things that could have been, for a young life ended so needlessly. But he also knew that Taylor was the one who would forever keep Justin's memory alive. She was, without a doubt, the best thing that had ever happened to any of them – Justin, Brian, Daphne, Teo... and now maybe Charles Jonah, as well.

Yeah, Daphne was still seeing him, and it looked like it may be more than serious. He was a good man and old enough to, perhaps, handle the firecracker that Daphne could sometimes be. And most importantly, Taylor liked him.

They'd broken their rule this year and had brought their significant others – god how Brian hated that term – with them on their trip to Clearwater. But this day, this particular few hours, it was just the three of them. Teo and Charles were dog-sitting at the condo. Brian chuckled to himself about that, since Charles was a bit leery of the clumsy beast. Cookie was, in his words, a behemoth. Leave it to Daphne to pair up with someone else who scored perfectly on his verbals.

“So, my little firefly, where did you ever learn to build a castle like that?” It was an impressive sand castle for a three and a half year-old. She'd been building for a little more than an hour and had scooped and scraped the original mound of sand into a fairly square building with towers and turrets. It looked like the palace in one of her princess books. All it needed was a prince.

“My Tin told me how to do it. He said I just have to see it in my head and then do it.”

Brian sat down on the damp sand next to the budding palace. He and Daphne had decided this year to give Taylor a bit more information on why they came here every year and released a single balloon. “You love Tin a lot, don't you?”

“Course. He's my best friend.”

“Yeah, that he is.” Brian helped Daphne as she sat on the other side of their daughter. “Do you know what else Tin is?”

“My daddy,” Taylor said matter-of-factly. Brian looked at Daphne, puzzled, and she shook her head. Neither one of them had told Taylor about Justin being her father. “But you're my daddy, too.”

“Tin tell you all this?”

“Yep. Tin tells me all kinds of stuff, daddy. Like he loves pizza a _lot_.” Taylor laughed.

“Yeah, he loves pizza.” Daphne wiped her face and ruffled her daughter's hair. God, she wanted to hug Justin so badly.

“Your mommy and I knew your daddy, before you were born. We both love him a lot.”

“He _knows_ that, daddy. But he doesn't like it when you're sad about him dying.”

“Oh, god... Brian, I...” Daphne hid her face in her hands for a moment, sobs shaking her shoulders. Brian blinked away tears of his own, a lump growing in his throat.

“Mommy, don't _cry_.” Taylor turned and crawled into her mother's lap. “Tin says you're being a dramatic princess.”

“Justin, I have at least graduated to queen status by now, you jerk!” Daphne hugged Taylor and let the moment turn to laughter.

Brian sat stunned. He didn't know whether to laugh, cry or go crazy. Maybe a little of all of it. Jesus, they were talking to a dead man...

He decided to simply enjoy it.

“Justin, if you tell our daughter about... certain things... I'll be the one haunting _you_. Are you listening, you twat?”

“Tin says you're funny and he's on to you, daddy.” Taylor touched her father's nose as he gave a wide smile, then asked, “Daddy? What's cap ree?”

Brian thought for a moment. _Cap ree_? _Capri_?

“Capri? Why?”

“Tin says he likes this beach, but next year he'd like to see cap ree.” She shrugged.

Brian let himself fall back on the sand, pulled his arms around himself and laughed. “Jesus, I love you, Sunshine.”

 

EPILOGUE:

Taylor Chanders Kinney was trying so hard not to scuff the toes of her new shoes. Mom and Dad had paid a fortune for them, as well as the rest of her outfit, and she felt like one of her princess dolls right now. It was hard, though, to keep still enough to not wrinkle, stretch, scuff or muss because she was so nervous! She had to walk out on that stage in a few minutes and talk into that microphone in front of all those people!

She wanted to throw up and she needed to pee. She sighed and read her notes instead.

Growing up with Brian Kinney and Daphne Chanders-Jonah, it was inevitable that Taylor would be a force to be reckoned with. But at the tender age of ten, she was surprising even her own father, who had always been convinced she could do anything she set her mind to. She honestly didn't think there was another kid in the history of the world who was as lucky as she was. And now, she needed to convince this audience to help other people find a little bit of luck for themselves.

“You doing okay, Miss T?” Teo squeezed her hand. She looked like she could use a little pep talk.

“Yeah. Just nervous,” Taylor reassured him. “Do I still look okay? Not stapled, folded or spindled anywhere?”

“There's never been a more put-together, or beautiful, young lady in the world.” And he had never meant anything more. Having this one child come into his life, complete with her handsome father, was miraculous. “Just speak from your heart, Taylor. And if you get too nervous, just remember that Tin and Cookie are always right there to help. Okay?”

“Mom and dad and Charles are out there, too, right? Front and center so I can see them?”

“Yep, and I'll be here on the side if you need me. I can be right there in less than two seconds.” They'd had a scare a time or two when Taylor had serious seizures brought on by stress. Cookie had become adept at predicting a seizure before it really started, but they still worried. Today everyone thought it better if Teo stayed in the wings, close enough in case Taylor needed medical help.

“Okay,” she said and blew her bangs away from her face.

She'd grown into a lovely girl, a blend of all her parents. She was petite, like her mother, intelligent and stubborn like her dad and Tin. They'd all given so much so that she could be her best, and she really didn't want to disappoint them today. _Especially_ today.

Today was a special day for more reasons than one. An essay she had written for her political science instructor had won her a trip to address the legislature in Harrisburg. It was also the memorial date of her Tin's murder. For the first time in her life she wasn't on a beach on May 6. She'd almost turned down the opportunity because of that. But she knew she had to speak, had to try to make a difference. Tin said he'd wait for his balloon until tomorrow.

Her Uncle Michael and Uncle Ben were having a party at their house with mom and the dads' families and Grandma and Molly. She knew there would be a houseful watching her speak over the web. _No pressure here, Taylor_ , she thought.

One last glance at her notes then...

From the podium she looked out and saw her family, sitting right where she'd hoped they'd be. Dad... so straight in his seat. She could tell he was nervous for her, but mom had his hand. She also had Charles' hand. Okay... deep breath.

 

_Hi. My name is Taylor Chanders Kinney, and I'm ten years old. Maybe you think that's kind of young to be speaking to all of you. I hope you'll listen to what I have to say anyway because it's important to me and to a lot of other people._

_I never got to meet my biological father in person. He was murdered before I was born and his boyfriend became my legal father. It's complicated, I know, but it works for us._

_I've been very lucky because I have a mom and four dads. My father, Brian Kinney and his partner, Teo Marten; my stepfather, Charles Jonah, who's married to my mom; and my biological father, Justin Taylor. I call him my Tin. That's his picture there on the screen behind me._

_But like I said, my Tin was murdered on May 6, 2001. Eleven years ago today. On the night of his prom in high school he was attacked by Christopher Hobbs, a boy from his class. Christopher Hobbs hit my Tin in the head with a baseball bat and Tin died before the ambulance could get there. My dad, Brian Kinney, was with him when he was attacked and was holding him when he died._

_Christopher Hobbs made a deal with someone and was sent to jail for ten years. He is supposed to be released from jail next year. My Tin won't be alive to see that, though. He also wasn't alive to see me take my first steps or to hear my first words. He wasn't alive for birthdays or Christmases, or to help me with my homework. He won't be alive when I start high school or college or get married. Those are just a few of the things my Tin, Justin Taylor, never got to do in life._

_And he didn't get to sit here tonight with my family, hearing me talk about something no kid should ever have to talk about._

_Pennsylvania, where my Tin was murdered, didn't have any hate crime legislation that included sexual orientation when my Tin was killed. If they had, maybe Christopher Hobbs wouldn't be getting out of jail next year. You see, Christopher Hobbs didn't like my Tin he because was gay, because he was comfortable enough to dance with his boyfriend at his prom, because he wasn't ashamed of who he loved. If my Tin had been attacked because he was Jewish or because he was black, or even because he sometimes had seizures like me, Christopher Hobbs might be in jail a little longer._

_In 2002, the year after my Tin was killed, Pennsylvania added sexual orientation to their hate crime laws. You took it out again in 2008. It's now 2012 and you still haven't put it back._

_I'm scared. Next year I may have to walk down a street where the man who killed my Tin is walking. I may have to sit next to him at the movies or stand next to him at the mall. I'm ten years old and I'm afraid. I shouldn't have to be scared of that. At ten I should be scared of failing my math test or getting grounded by my dad or breaking my arm if I fall off my bike. I should not have to be afraid of running into the man who killed my Tin on the street._

_There are a lot of us, kids who lost a mom or dad or brother or sister the way I lost my Tin. Last year I started looking for them on the internet, trying to find other kids who knew how I felt. I found a lot of them. We call ourselves the Fireflies for a couple of reasons. The first reason is because that's been my nickname since before I was born. And the reason it was my nickname is because my Tin was like a firefly. He shined brightly and lit up the world when he smiled, but he didn't get to live long. Just like a firefly._

_As Fireflies, my friends and I aren't big or powerful and we can't do much on our own. But as a group we can shine a lot brighter and we want to use our light to let you... and you... and you see how wrong it is that men like Christopher Hobbs can get out of prison too soon and scare ten year old girls because they killed her Tin._

_A few years ago my dad, Brian Kinney, had cancer. Cancer is a horrible disease and I hope, for my dad and everyone else, that they find a cure soon. One of the things used to study cancer cells is an enzyme called luciferase, one of the phosphorescent enzymes fireflies use to glow in the dark. I know that because I love to study fireflies. That's kind of what we as Fireflies want to do, to fight the cancer of prejudice in our world. We don't have an enzyme, but we have a voice. I'm using my voice today to shine a light here in this room. I hope it can help you see the cancer I'm talking about._

_My Tin, Justin Taylor, should not have been killed. The man who killed him should not be getting out of prison next year. I should not be afraid because he is. But saying 'should not' doesn't keep it from happening._

_I'm asking every one of you to help us put more power behind the law to protect gay men and women and help their families feel safer. I'm asking every one of you to call the people you need to call, and to vote the way you need to vote to again add sexual orientation to our state's hate crime legislation._

_I'm asking every one of you to help keep another little girl from losing her Tin._

_Thank you._

 

In celebration of Taylor's speech before the Pennsylvania legislature, there was a huge family picnic in Frick Park. Brian and Daphne could not have been prouder of the daughter they had raised. Neither could Justin Taylor if the posse of fireflies, shining and twinkling in the midst of the group, was any indication.

The End

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This has been an oft times sweet, oft times painful story to write. I love QaF and, of course, that love inspired the story at the very foundation. But it was drawn from so many things, really – casual reading of an abandoned WIP, playing around with my admittedly novice graphic skills, my fear for the extinction of fireflies from light pollution... and my activism in the LGBTQ community. 
> 
> As of the writing of this story, fewer than half the states in the US list sexual orientation as a protected class under the law. Even fewer list gender identity. 
> 
> Thanks for giving me an opportunity to tell this story. I appreciate each and every one of you.


	10. The Narthex - an Outtake of sorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an outtake, of a sort, for Tin for the Firefly. It’s an admittedly odd piece, but for some crazy reason I just felt like saying it this way. This is Justin’s view, or a slice of it. Please let me know if it doesn't work.

 

He knew he was awake. He knew he was, but it was like no other wakefulness he could recall. There was a substance to it, a quality of concreteness that made all his other combined wakeful moments seem nothing more than specters. Mere illusory oases in a desert, as if they had been teasing his senses, testing them. And now his senses were heightened without a single iota of apprehension, or even expectancy. It was simply an exhilaration.

When he looked about him everything made sense and nothing at all. There were sound like water falling over pure energy, and the air held a scent he knew yet couldn’t name. There were colors he’d _never_ seen before and he knew _that_ one was pliel and _that_ one was erreta, yet he had no idea how he’d come to know that. He laughed for the pure joy of it, and he _remembered_ it all because he knew he was awake as he’d never been awake before. He pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, propped his chin on top and let wakefulness take him.

It seemed he’d been sitting only a moment or forever when he finally spoke. He didn’t address anyone in particular, although he could sense someone nearby.

“I’m dead, aren’t I?”

“There’s no death,” a soft voice replied, “merely an exchange of journeys.”

“But… to _them_ I’m dead.”

“Yes.” The woman sat beside him, copying his position, her knees pulled to her chest. “Are you sad about that?”

“Yes,” he said and paused. “I’m sad for _them_.” He paused again. “But somehow it seems a sacrilege to feel sadness here, in all this…” He waved his arms around, with a look of wonder on his face.

She chuckled lightly. “There’s no sacrilege here except perhaps against yourself. The only sacred thing is you, your feelings, your knowledge – and what you do with that.”

He furrowed his brow in thought, finally nodding his understanding. “So… he _was_ the face of god,” he said with a wide grin and a raise of his eyebrows.

She snorted lightly and took his hand, pulling him up with her as she stood. “Come with me?”

For the first time he turned and looked her, this being whose name seemed unimportant, as if learning it would limit the knowing of her in some way. But she was lovely. There was a softness to her hand in his that felt oddly familiar, as if he should know that touch, as well. But he knew he didn’t. Her saffron hair fell in soft curls around her face and shoulders, her eyes standing out against her café latte complexion, a brilliant blue speckled with brown, like a robin’s egg. He somehow knew that she didn’t look like this, but was only allowing him to see her this way. And he somehow knew it was important that he understand why.

So he went with her.

“Where are we going?”

“Just walking. With you being new in town” – she laughed and squeezed his fingers – “you should at least see the sights.”

“My own personal tour guide to the afterlife,” he joked.

Her smile was engaging. “I suppose one could think of it that way, but there is no ‘after’. There is only life.”

She led him past mountains and oceans and formations of land peppered with other people, with interesting faces he’d only dreamed of painting one day. There was no sun beaming but the very air around them seemed to radiate its light, then in the blink of an eye he could see galaxies and vast expanses of space teeming with life and bursting with energy.

“I should feel overwhelmed, shouldn’t I?” he asked as he absorbed everything around him. “But it feels so right, as if everything before was a preparation. I’ve been here only a few moments it seems, yet it seems forever at the same time.”

She laughed at his enthusiasm. “It’s different for everyone, the experience. And time, place… those are _concepts_ , not reality. Corporeal beings are responsive to the rhythms of what _they_ can see, hear, feel… They qualify and quantify so things will make sense to them, because they’ve forgotten how to see, hear and feel beyond those rhythms. Some” – she smiled slightly in his direction, with a little nod – “sense the truth beyond that tautology and stir great emotion among those less willing to do so.”

“So I’ve been here before.” He knew he had, somehow knew this wakefulness was more the resumption of a journey briefly interrupted than a new one undertaken.

“You have.”

They continued to walk, through small cities and grand fields, past magnificent works of art and the simplicity of children playing tag. Everything in a moment, so familiar and so fresh.

“Is that why I feel I should know you? Because we’ve met here before?”

Her laughter at his words was gloriously happy and he smiled widely, not really even knowing why. “Not quite. You feel that sense of knowing me because we _will_ share a special bond, but we haven’t met… yet.”

The woman’s words gave him the first feeling of confusion he’d had since he’d awakened. Or returned. He knew her because they were _going_ to meet? He’d sensed that who she appeared to be was not who, or how, she really was, but he struggled to understand the puzzle. “I so completely don’t understand.”

“Because you haven’t experienced it yet. Our bond is not a memory, but a promise to come.” She squeezed his fingers gently to emphasize that promise. “You said I was your personal tour guide, but really, you’ll be mine.” She watched the puzzle try to work itself out in his head but knew that it couldn’t… yet. His sadness was still too great for those he loved behind to completely look forward. “They mourn and grieve because they are still responding to those rhythms around them. My new journey is to help them sense beyond that.”

“Their guardian angel.”

“No, just someone who needs them as much as they need me.” She touched his face and felt comfort in the warmth his skin held, the tireless glimmer in his eye, the unconditional love he seemed to exude. “Welcome back, Tin. I’m sorry I won’t really remember all this when we do meet.”

 

The moment her image left him he heard the protesting cry of a newborn child and a host of new understandings flooded him. She was… he was… Oh, god! In that instant he laughed with such frantic joy, closed his eyes and he was _there_ , watching _his_ daughter being presented to the world. The anticipation and unconditional love on Daphne’s face as she saw her child for the first time would have brought him to his knees if it had been possible.

But it was Brian, pacing the hospital corridor, his hands wrecking his hair, his glance bouncing between the clock on the wall and the double doors leading to the delivery room, that wrenched Justin’s heart. He could feel the apprehension and excitement that underscored every breath the man drew in and let out. This was the Brian so few saw, this bundle of nervous energy, this caring man who agonized over the pain of others. This man who held more love in his little finger than most nations could contain within their borders.  

He watched as Brian finally rushed through the doors and into the room, then almost fearfully lifted the little bundle of squirming noise in his arms. _There_ was the look – the look that made Justin fall in love with this oft times insufferable man. The look a father bestows on a beloved child.

“Welcome to the world, little firefly.”

With those few words, Justin knew Brian would be okay eventually. Knew they all would. Justin looked over Brian’s shoulder at this new little being who held so many hearts in her tiny hands and whispered, just past Brian’s ear.

“Hey, little firefly. Guess this is where we finally meet. I’m your Tin. Just Tin.” He could swear there was a flash of recognition on that lovely little face and he knew she could sense him, knew he was there. “You’ve got a big job to pull off here, little girl, taking care of your new mom and dad. I can almost guarantee it won’t be easy, but I’ll be right there with you, your own personal tour guide.”

He turned and saw Brian lay his forehead lovingly against Daphne’s, saw her cup his face and kiss him sweetly on the cheek with a ‘Congratulations, dad,” and he knew everything was just as it should be. He opened his eyes and heard the gentle sound of water running across pure energy, and thought he should paint his daughter in tones of cadmium, pliel and eretta.

Brian he would paint in agapó.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (In Greek, the narthex was the portico or anteroom adjacent to a place of worship where penitents not allowed into the body of the church worshiped. It was also used to refer to a small case in which healing balms were held. Both definitions fit here, I think.)


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